The light is different here. In the fields and forests around me in Ireland I am mostly under muted grey skies, downright dark grey skies and bleached out light grey skies. (I won't even start about the rain!) Here in Australia while the sun is clear and strong, it is gone by 5.30, so from early afternoon shadows grow long and people move . . .
~In the Dreamtime~
A Kamilaroi story tells of a magnificent male Kangaroo, so overtaken by the dancing of the locals that he joined the circle and danced a special dance that is still celebrated today. The Dreaming of Aboriginal Australia, ed Jean A Ellis, 2006 I am learning about this concept of Aboriginal Dreamtime . . .
~Transported by a plush French cafe~
Was it the purple upholstery or the gold painted furniture? Was it the light streaming in from the early morning Sydney streets? Was it the perfectly coiffed French waitress, all the way from Brittany? Whatever it was, the shadowy interior of this cafe transported me to where the coffee was perfect, the home made marshmallow . . .
~The eyes behind the lens~
Far from familiar meandering lanes, I am here in the midst of the dramatic lines of Sydney. Strong diagonals on the Bridge, soaring curves on the Opera House, tiny human forms a reminder of our presence. A woman tied to a harness sets out on the climb. It will take three hours and 189 . . .
Wish you were here in Sydney
Wish you were here, the surf's up....... Wish you were here, life on the ocean wave....... Wish you were here, tis a dreamy view...... Wish you were here, the flowers are so exotic...... Wish you were here, although it's autumn and the shadows are . . .
Relentlessly snowy Berlin
I'm just back from a relentlessly snowy Berlin. 10 times the size of Paris with an ever growing and developing creative community. Iconic monuments, grungy clubs and cafes, graffiti on everything, and always reminders of the Cold War. They may have tried to kill off diversity in the 1930's but today Berlin is one of most multi-cultural . . .
……and just at that moment……
Special times come and go so fast. The one beautiful evening this summer. That last photo opportunity of the day. The final moments of the slithering sinking sun. After a pet day on Rossbeigh Strand, that elusive sun is tracked until it's very last golden seconds of light. Lads stop playing football on the sand and . . .
….and in no time I began to forget…..
There were 5 kinds of weather in that sky and the mist hanging over the mountains made the beach disappear in an endless haze. Sun filtered through from time to time and the surfing classes, picnics and family gatherings continued, in spite of sprinkles of rain, thickening fog or sand blowing..... We could no longer . . .
It’s quiet here as usual but it’s Mayday in Havana, Cuba!
Every Mayday I think of the huge celebrations I attended once in Havana. On Mayday morning our hosts, a writer, his beautiful dancer wife and his mother aged 85, went scouring the streets to get eggs for our breakfast. Unfortunately we had to go hungry that day and instead joined the throngs on their way to the location for the start . . .
