UK 1987

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Pakistan

seen from Russia
seen from China
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Brazil

seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from South Korea

seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
UK 1987
The Durell Challenge is right around the corner and Ive finally finished this little passion project, a Henry Cavill colouring book with all proceeds going to Durell. 10 pages to colour in, digital file only (for now!)
To get the digital book donate £5 here and email [email protected] with a screenshot of your donation.
Henry and Kal being goofy and promoting the Durrell challenge!
Lotus Esprit, Durell software (1986)
Source: http://www.worldofspectrum.org/
Poem of the Week - Lawrence Durell
Lawrence Durrell is best known for his opulent tetralogy of novels, The Alexandria Quartet (1957–60). But it was as a poet that he first came to public notice – and acclaim – with collections such as A Private Country (1943), Cities, Plains and People (1946), On Seeming To Presume (1948) and The Tree of Idleness (1955). Indeed, Durrell later described himself as a “poet who had stumbled into prose”. Peter Porter’s Selected Poems (2006) gives a flavour of the range and quality of Durrell’s best work, though it remains sadly neglected. For as the poet and novelist John Wain once testified, Durrell’s “ear is so fine, his choice of words and rhythms so rare and joyous” that to read him “is to have one’s love of poetry rekindled”. Durrell also had an admirer in T. S. Eliot, his editor at Faber, without whose work his own would not have been possible. But the more availing influence is perhaps W. H. Auden. Durrell shares something of his contemporary’s mastery of cadence, glinting particularity and fragmented, quirky meditativeness: qualities which he puts at the service of what he called the “spirit of place”. But you needn’t swallow his shtick about topography conserving “national essence” to appreciate the seductive oddity of his descriptions, or be moved by his astonishing rapport with the landscape, as in the unforgettable evocations of Corfu in the travel memoir Prospero’s Cell (1945).
The eye imagery of “One Grey Greek Stone”, first published in the TLS in 1965, recalls that early work’s figuration of Greece as “a living eye”. “Nowhere else has there ever been a landscape so aware of itself”, Durrell wrote, but in this poem it seems aware of much else besides. The title comes from a letter of Byron’s, written shortly before his death at Missolonghi in 1824 – “I should prefer a grey Greek stone over me to Westminster Abbey” – and memory, death and desire come as much within its ken as rock and sea. Listen and you will hear it whisper the same question Durrell attributed elsewhere to landscape: “I am watching you. Are you watching yourself in me?”
Sunday project, a repaint of my alternative loading screen for Durell’s Turbo Esprit, now upgraded to my ZX Spectrum Next palette.
UK 1987
UK 1987