Friday afternoon, 01/05/20 I have never seen anything more golden than the London Central Mosque’s dome in stormy weather. Running out of Regent’s Park through Hanover Gate, a strong blow of wind rushed blossom bits in my eyes and I stopped. Spring is a wicked season. (“Spring is a wicked temptress!”, and so on). I stopped between two trees so thick, they created a small frame of the minaret w...