Back after a month long computerless pause among the windswept Canary Islands… tenacious plants, millennia of intense desertification, life-giving mists and boundless black and barren lava fields.
The first orchids in the wind-swept stony pastures of central Abruzzo.
New paths amongst the juniper scrub and downy oak woodland under the stern gaze of the Velino massif.
A farewell homage to the town that’s been my (more-or-less) home for the last three years: urban sprawl, old village charm, mountain backdrop and an exhilarating mix of habitats and environments.
When creativity is at a low ebb, waiting for the spring sun to get the sap of inspiration flowing again.
As Russian tanks roll out across Ukraine and pundits of every degree of expertise expound their theories on geopolitics past and present, I escape from the madness into the things I love most, such as photographing little brown moths in from the cold…
Who am I? A question I’ve been asking myself for most of my sentient life. Three threads hold it all together and they go by the name of “lynkos”…
With the scented Mediterranean maquis behind me, down on the shore where the hardness of the land turns to brittleness and crumbles before the surf. Here I am at peace…
Those first brave flowerings as winter reluctantly opens up a chink to let in a hint of spring…
Happy birthday to me, with the mythical (and challenging) Leowa 60 mm macro lens…
