Walking in the rain, jumping across puddles, squelching through mud. This May is not what you would expect from the normally arid foothills of the Velino massif in Abruzzo.
The days have gone by, and the weeks too, followed all too quickly by the months... and the more time elapses, the more difficult it is to just simply dive in and start posting...
Flights of fantasy and through the air to destinations forged by fire and lapped by an ocean that ebbs and flows to my ancestral heartbeat. A fall serves as a reminder of the fragility...
Back after a month long computerless pause among the windswept Canary Islands... tenacious plants, millennia of intense desertification, life-giving mists and boundless black...
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...
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...