Notes from the Island

The Island welcomes everybody. Every day many visit and thousands pass close by, though few notice it. It is a place of brief encounters, of buried secrets, of moments glimpsed in rear-view mirrors. A brief pause on a journey. The Island has no border controls, no prisons, no buying and selling. Is it a utopia? Perhaps it could be, a sanctuary of non-interference amidst the surveillance cameras. The Island, London SE14 - much more than just a traffic island on the A2, New Cross Road.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Escape to the Island

On the mainland, a few metres distant from the Island's north coast, there is a Barclays Bank. Yesterday the combination of the heat, the cashpoint queue and money stress led to a small commotion. Shoving, fists raised, woman shouting to man 'get your fucking hands off me. Maybe you hit your woman in your country...'. Others intervening to separate or aggravate. Pushed to the edge of the road and the pavement, there's only one place to go... escape to the Island.


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