Nanki-Poo in the Rose Garden

Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden. So writes T.S. Eliot in Burnt Norton, the first of the Four Quartets. It makes one wonder what memories can be recalled of this particular Rose Garden. A slightly strange venue to choose… Continue reading Nanki-Poo in the Rose Garden