For forty years, a recurring dream visited my sleep with the regularity of a heartbeat. It was a strange, fragmented vision: a single flower resting on a conveyor belt—a small, fragile piece of beauty moving through a mechanical world. Then, a sudden, deafening bang would shatter the air. In the darkness that followed, I would…
In the autumn of 1977, London was a city of stark contrasts. I was a young boy just starting his first term at Sir Philip Magnus School, the world felt like it was expanding. The transition from primary school to the imposing corridors of secondary school was a rite of passage, marked by the rush…