There is no map for the places each of us go. Daily, we take steps down roads which have never been trodden; or perhaps they have simply never been charted, even by those who have been there before. Each morning I take my dog outside. She gets me up far earlier than I normally would.
Life is sweet in the belly of the beast And with her song in your heart, It can never bring you down Lost in a maze of a thousand rainy days But when I heard her voice, oh it led me to the end Yes, it led me to the end Cause when she sings
I know there are scores of people around the world who travel by themselves. And they give a multitude of reasons why they think solo travel is the way to go. I, on the other hand, kind of enjoy having someone to share the awesomeness of what happens on the road. In my photojournalism travels
I thoroughly enjoy being able to spend time in a place. Especially, to photograph. To work the scene, to study the situation and the way the light falls, to watch for patterns in movement… At a place like the Eiffel Tower, nobody is going to do something that a million others have not done. But
Photographs from an evening with good friends in Brighton, UK. Four dudes (French, Italian, Australian, American) having tea in a hotel in Brighton. No, really. All of us journalists/photographers… . . . . . We had quite the luck with weather… . Evening fell… Stay tuned… -Noah D.
“How sweet the morning air is! See how that one little cloud floats like a pink feather from some gigantic flamingo. Now the red rim of the sun pushes itself over the London cloud-bank. It shines on a good many folk, but on none, I dare bet, who are on a stranger errand than you
And here we are at the first day of the new year. If you’re curious at all, here are the most viewed pages from 2013 posts: 1. Farm fresh… (4 March) 2. A study in the trees of winter… (11 Dec) 3. Ones for whom the rules do not apply… (1 March) 4. Where are you
Look up into the trees on a clear winter night. The light from those stars have travelled untold millions of years and unfathomable distances just to be blocked by a thing so frail as the upper limb of a tree branch. Such significant power, one of the multitudes which fill the heavens and have captivated
There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons — That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes — Heavenly Hurt, it gives us — We can find no scar, But internal difference, Where the Meanings, are — None may teach it — Any — ’Tis the Seal Despair — An imperial affliction Sent us of
The private viewing at the Europe House (on Smith Square) of Hans Van der Meer’s new exhibition entitled “Off the Shelf.” The exhibition was great, but, as usual, it is the people who attend it that make it really special. It was a shame that Hans couldn’t be there, I would have liked to