“It was a slightly surreal but moving experience to read and hear the words of ordinary fans rather than celebs and politicians in the media.”
Words and photograpy by Jason Cox
Why did I do this? I’m not quite sure.
I wanted to try and understand what I was feeling I suppose. I was in London for an interview and had time to kill. I could not face going home back to the media circus, look at the papers what did they know? I didn’t want to go home to yesterday’s limbo either. So I decided to go on a journey.
I had no idea that Ziggy was born around the corner from Regent Street: I don’t think I cared too much about such a detail. But seeing the flowers and words of love from around the world was a profound moment. Suddenly I didn’t feel quite so silly and alone. I spoke to a lady from Worcester who said she felt that she had to come. She told me that she had an ordinary life as a parent like many of us but revealed that she wrote songs but hadn’t for some time because life gets in the way. We talked like geeks in a playground about Bowie and how he inspired us and she said she felt a new lease of creativity. I gave words of encouragement and wished her well and she was on her way.
What the heck, I headed off to Brixton. As soon as I got off the tube I could see my destination. A crowd was gathered at the court of Aladdin Sane. People from all around of all ages were there to reflect and make some sense of this feeling that seemed to have engulfed us all. Bowie’s words reused in so many of the messages. I read so many of Bowie’s words and it just seemed right, it made some sense. A local lady sang his songs so badly to me and another crusader but it was her way, her version, the words all wrong, she tried to tell us stories of Bowie growing up and playing where we stood. She seemed confused, was she there or wasn’t she? Who cares her words said so much more than a hollow politician’s scripted eulogies. I didn’t know how close Bowie junior was to Brixton Academy until that day.
I walked some more and there I was outside his home where it all began with a few other lost souls and a toy horse. Could this humble 2 up 2 down Victorian terrace really be where the Starman began? The flowers and the horse and told me it must be so. I met Angela who had not brought her camera so she asked if I could share my photos with her, how could I refuse we talked about why we were there and we walked and talked all the way to the Ritzy. Oh no, love you’re not alone.
