The Need for a Fluid Pilgrimage

The Three Bridge Kingdom is trivia in its original sense. Three canal arms meet as its island centre, the perfect haunt for the Queen of Ghosts, the Roman Hecate. Boats go east, boats go west. Their wakes crossing in a tense interference pattern. Each direction making its siren call for you to slip your mooring and follow.

This time of year, canalside nights swell with dreams of dark lantern craft heading east. The sly wheeze of engines carving the black mirror, carving the night towards Limehouse. Towards the Thames as if it were some spawning ground for narrowboats.

An urge to follow itches into waking. The need for a fluid pilgrimage. Our lady of the waters. Copper, orange and honey offered. Time to sweat locks.