Argos
A poem
I never saw what came before him on the worn terrazzo, five nights in la bella Málaga, cradle of Picasso. At each breakfast in Kawama’s ‘Miami Vibe’ I’d spy, his stooped silhouette and its tether, too late to reach my eyes. Autumn’s trigger, switching instantly, snaps the summer stone dead. The sadness follows, seeps in, and triggers my seasonal dread. For the solace I think of him and the glorious warm air, bright days alive with Feira, Cartojal, flowers in the hair. And I realise you’re not the lonely traveller who’s lost. But an old familiar friend, the trusty and steadfast Argos.
Photo: Malaga, Spain. 2025. Nikon z8
I was moved last night to pop a DVD into the computer, to rewatch 'Three Days Of The Condor', a 1975 film - that's 50 years back - featuring Robert Redford. (Tonight will be 'Barefoot In The Park'.)
One of the interesting locations for the movie is New York's WTC twin towers. One of the interesting sub-plots is the CIA's plan to take over the oil states of the Middle East and Venezuela (and possibly the Netherlands ...). Plus ça change ... One interesting twist is that Turner (Redford) tells the whole story to the New York Times but, as Cliff Robertson says, "Will they print it?" (It's funny how odd that sounds in an era where no newspaper actually prints anything at all). I suppose the answer depends on who owns it.
It's when Redford hijacks Faye Dunaway, photographer, that the relevance to you comes in: he admires the photos on her wall, and remarks how she takes pictures devoid of life. Very few leaves on the trees, empty parks, empty streets. "November," he says, "That no man's land between autumn and the winter." You should take a look at the movie, especially now.
Here, for the sake of it, is something I wrote about Mr Redford yesterday:
Years ago, when I used to visit a maiden aunt of mine who was 35 years my senior, we would go out to the cinema of a Saturday night, and one night we went to see “The Natural”.
We would discuss the film we’d just seen over supper back at her flat before embarking on a game of Scrabble. On this occasion I ventured an opinion of the lead actor: “I just felt that Redford’s acting was a little wooden.”
My aunt turned on me from what she had been doing and looked me in the eye with an intense regard of exasperated consternation. “Robert Redford doesn’t need to act, woodenly or otherwise. He simply needs to be on the screen.”
I’ve since rewatched “The Natural” and … revised my view of Redford’s acting talent. But auntie was right.
Fall being the season of letting go, this captures the tethered end of summer. Perfect picture.
Thank you.