Found in Camden Passage, not far from Sadler’s Wells,

among the magic lanterns the owner buys and sells

a photo album, gathering dust,

just an idle curiosity,

moments of lives caught within a frame

snapshots of people who have no name.

What can we tell by such a fleeting glance

from their backgrounds, their clothes, their stance,

cashmere, tweeds, leather shoes and pearls?

Perhaps adventurers, daughters of earls,

wives and planters of rubber or tea,

administrators with files to oversee,

civil servants in the diplomatic corps

with home leave taken via Singapore.

The album travelling by sea and on trains

protected from mildew and the Rains,

carried overland through mud and the briar,

brought back when they were ready to retire

to Cheltenham, the Cotswolds, the Yorkshire Fells.

Then, how did their photos end up near Sadler’s Wells?