‘Red shoes’ by Anne Sexton

I stand in the ring
in the dead city
and tie on the red shoes…
They are not mine.
They are my mother’s.
Her mother’s before.
Handed down like an heirloom
but hidden like shameful letters.
The house and the street where they belong
are hidden and all the women, too,
are hidden…

The image chosen to illustrate this post is of a bridge in Hampstead Heath in north London. I lived nearby and I was very attracted to its mystery. It is also one of the last photos I took in London before migrating to Australia. It’s a symbolic image for me, a psychological representation of my feelings, an image depicting an idea of a crossing of a bridge – the imaginary and the literal one.

Hampstead Heath, London