Rye Day.

There was a castle in our way and each of us had an idea. Mum thought that we should go through it, dad suggested that we go round it and I mocked them both and said that we should split up - one of us tunnels under it, one jumps over it and the other goes round it, then into it. That would confuse the castle and probably force it to leave. In the end we went inside the castle and treated it with respect. I had a feeling that it could sense my method, perhaps it had spies in the field, so I said little and even bought some postcards. It was a nice place to visit, even if it looked at us in a way that unnerved me.



From a distance, but need I have written that? I could've got a better picture but I was worried that it would come out once it was openly aware of us.



Inside the middle bit of the middle looking at the inside side of the real middle. It was an optical deluge, an architectural breakdown, I am glad to here.



I met a couple of American tourists on the way, very nice they were, laying the benefit speech on my home county with the added bonus of the eccentric spin of their untamed pronounciations. I remain in email connection with them, my friends 'A' and 'B'. They pleaded not to be named because 'B' is supposed to be fulfilling some hunger of the National Non-Optional.

That was Rye. It is a beautiful town, and there are nature reserves aplenty right next to mysterious chemical facilities and giant van pens. I will return there one day, and you are welcome to see it here, exclusively on Art Diary.