Meeting Sophie in Tate Britain, thinking of an invisible city ...

I met Sophie outside The Tate Britain - it was the day of my birthday - I knew that I must read Paul Auster's Winter Journal soon - how was this possible, I thought, to be sixty two -

Sophie was wearing top boots - she had arrived on time, fresh from a meeting with a Polish artist -  

We ate carrot cake in the Djanogly Cafe - I told Sophie about the nightmare I had the previous night - I still felt afraid - 

We explored the shining galleries, marveling at the spiral staircase - 

Strange temporary structures beguiled us - a huge tube, like a spooky telescope, was suspended within a fragile tower - 

Soon we were drawn towards Ruin Lust - 

Before we entered those white spaces, filled with images of listing gun emplacements, edgelands and riven palaces, I thought, for a moment, of the young woman I'd seen begging near Waterloo Station - 

She had a thin fierce face - the polystyrene cup before her was half filled with dirty coins - 

Her desolate city was hidden from me -