For a few days in June, the statue of Winston Churchill in Parliament Square was hidden in a box, to protect it from demonstrators.
And on June 17th, I checked it out:
I also discovered that two other statues had been thus encased.
Although strangely, what with him having been threatened, not Lincoln:
I especially treasure photos like this, of moments in London history that are very striking, yet temporary. (Another of my photo-clutches that I especially like having photoed for this reason is all the photos I photoed of this broken crane.)
I vividly recall photoing these statues-in-boxes photos, yet when I went looking for them this evening, I couldn’t find them on my hard disk. I eventually looked on the back-up SD card that I always carry with me in my jacket pocket for when I forget to insert the regular SD card that is usually in my camera, and there these photos were. Still on that SD card, not yet downloaded to the hard disc, yet all present and correct. And I experienced that particular happiness that happens when life extricates itself from extreme misery, and back only to the extreme imperfection that is life’s normal state.
I returned on June 21st. By which time these boxes had gone and all the statues were back on view.