Whenever I see an alleyway, I am drawn to enter it - I leave the broad pavement, with its innocent pedestrians - I step into a narrow world, one bounded by stone or brick, twisting away from certainty -
I have lost myself in Venice, many times, wandering past silent courts, smelling the dark sinister water in canal basins - I saw crumbling palazzos in the moonlight - I crossed over piazzas, turning around to watch my shadow - I followed sleek cats into blind alleys - I saw a priest, staring down from a brilliantly lit window -
Idling in York, I spied some outposts of that unsettling realm - I dived into the alleyways near The Shambles - there, between high walls of worn brick, I could only hear my own footsteps - I passed by elegant drinking dens - I heard tinkling laughter - I was led into a dark church, like a cave, full of box pews, arranged like traps -
As ever, my head was full of dreams - but too soon I was back upon the crowded pavement -
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