It is almost by accident that I am here in Lisbon this week. But I have always wanted to come. My eyes are relieved to have this change of scene from green Ireland and the Saint Patrick's Day shenanigans. Instead Alfama, where we are based is warm and peachy. No shortage of washing . . .
We had just arrived in Northern Brittany. Our first stop was to be a field on the edge of the Ile Callot. You get there by crossing a causeway at low tide. When the tide returns and the day trippers go home, there are only a few occupied houses and the wilderness left. And ourselves of . . .
It was stormy and grey on the streets of Stockholm where I was visiting family last week, so for a change I was photographing the glow of a Scandinavian Christmas, but indoors. Tastefully designed, as you would expect, Christmas here knocks the stuffing out of . . .
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), It’s always our self we find in the sea. -e.e. cummings During the last week in France, Mont St. Michel becomes visible on the horizon and gets closer every day. It towers over the bay, between . . .
"We come from the sea, Tim; our blood is salt, and strange tides ebb and flow within us all.” ― Neil Gaiman, The Books of Magic It has been a month by the sea. Quite literally the sound of the waves crashing on the northern shore of Brittany has been the soundtrack to our . . .