The garden at Anne Hathway's Cottage includes a number of sculptures that relate to Shakespeare plays. This was the one I couldn't tear my eyes from. I kept wanting to go back to it.
I haven't read King Lear in years, so couldn't grasp the signs recounting the play, but even if I didn't know the name of the piece, I could make up an entire mythology based on the stories that are crawling over each other.
The scorpion piercing through his ribcage, and the small, tortured creature gripping her throat at the foot of the sculpture, are the most startling images for me. It all just feels so...alive. Like at any moment they will all start to breathe and their bodies to writhe. Then they will get up and continue the drama. I know it cannot end well.
Twilight Scrawls by Kirstin Maguire
7 hours ago