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January 2018, vol 13 no 4

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Diana Webb


On a shelf among family photos stands a bridge. Moulded in clay by my daughter in childhood after a school trip to Bath, it fascinates my five-year old grandson. A weighty piece, it has three arches underneath on either side and along the top it is marked with indentations, grooved with lines. Glazed to the colour of peanut brittle, an excellent likeness of the structure in question (with a turret chipped off on opposite corners).

running between
familiar faces
the flow of time