I have an obsession with photographing plants. Perhaps it is the fact they sit so still, so silent, and yet manage to show that they are alive.
Leaves are like pages of a book; each one a part of a larger whole, telling the stories of the tree they belong to.
Between the shadows.
Sometimes, if I strain my eyes hard enough, I can see him as he sits on that mahogany chair we bought at Gravesend all those years ago; eyebrows furrowed and pen in hand. Continue reading
I put down the manual and looked around the room for a few moments before my gaze settled on the mess of parts in the center of the workshop. It was almost done. Continue reading
A single leaf flutters in the breeze. She brushes past her brethren, sailing across her mother’s branches before waving goodbye as she floats gently earthbound. Continue reading