"Have a beer , it is solstice.. just lay in the sun all day, it is solstice" the guy told me offering his can as if I were one of his neighbors and not even wondering how I had found my way through the boatyard. Then he went again to taste the sun..

For some kind of magic the sun was still warm at something around seven in June, 21st of June in London outskirts of Twickenham. Which is in fact a much less poetic way of calling this lost pearl of countryside suspended nowhere in time and space that was baptised Eel Pie Island.

What else than magic could I call this tiny piece of land which is linked to greater London by a small foot bridge. When you cross the first house has written on the small panel Kuala Lumpur ,which adds to the already well settled state of dreaminess one brings on from the bridge. Looking around it seems that there is no public path to walk among the country house,but a small tiny way brings to the boatyards. I sneaked in into two almost closed doors, to my fascination with sea and boats the large titans parked to be repaired or repainted made me feel like inside this dot of land were larger worlds , as a game of boxes.

I always feel like a child in front of this lords of the sea, able to cut waves and cross horizons.

I went on trying to discover hidden corners , I was in total awe thinking of the time this place had a hotel well known as ballroom , that misteriously burned down.
The memory and the warmth of that summer solstice came to me in an another propitious sunny day when at la cite de la musique , the passionating class about rock history held by Olivier Julien brought us back to the days of the british rock . 

Pete Towshend had in fact his own recording studios opposite the island and called them inspired by the island itself.
Life goes and summer withers and ends: still some dreams linger on and can revive through a small foot bridge. The warmth of the solstice light can feed a whole winter time