Wild at Heart, Cape Town & around, South Africa

i found a place that holds its breath.
soft pressure expressed on all sides.
waiting.
overheated.
and it seems only natural that, curling high on a cliff over Knysna, i find this heart styled vine surging upward.
organic and free to choose form.
pushing forward from the tangle beneath for air.
struggling for survival.
remaining perfect and beautiful.

i watch as the sun begins to slip away while a mild breeze brings little respite.


he is all texture.
his graceful neck, softened with fur and wrinkling in places, appeared out of the bushes.
lazy eyelids dip and fall with his slow bobbing stride.
heat and acceptance.

these animals are teaching me lessons i have been slow to absorb.
their lives punctuated with struggle, but not defined by it.
a placid persistence.
a natural pace.


little baby penguin.
fur dusted with sand.
no colour yet, just a simple brown wash.
the ugly ducking, as a chick.
limp and almost lifeless.
content.
just after his feeding.

i recall that simple childish feeling of just giving into gravity.
belly down and a warm patch of sun on my back.
i want for nothing.
and i think i know how this little one feels completely.
are we so different?


one place again.
a reunion of sorts.
drawn from as far as Scotland to the beaches of....
to have a simple picnic.
one of local red wine, fruits, bread and cheeses.
shoes discarded.
laughter.

and the setting allows us to forget how lucky we are to come together again.
i feel small and important all at one.
who knows when, or if this will ever happen again?
and we don't care.
for now it's a story of friends on a winter beach.


sombre.
my chest is weighted and aches with sympathy.
and lifted again with inspiration.
this is Robben Island, just off the coast of Cape Town.
here is the only space Nelson Mandela could look to the sky above his head while imprisoned for opposing apartheid.

stifling.
oppression.
disgust.
disgrace.
becoming hope.
potential.
historical references towards hope and liberty.

yet when i leave here, on a slow paced boat i do not leave as one liberated.
i leave knowing that i am far removed from such a life struggle.
i leave wondering if i would hold strong.
if i could offer to take blows to protect others.
and retain a certainty self.


he sees me, and looks through me.
as i look through the fence.
it dissolves before my lens.
as i believe i dissolve under his gaze.
he doesn't want to see me in his space.
i do not stay long.

Uptown Girl, New York, America

i stand and peer around.
people hustling and trying a hustle.
shopping and dog walking.
students and mothers.
street walks and hawkers.
its busy here.
it breathes this city.
expectant.
it wants it all, deep in its heart, pounding through the arteries, the subways.
pause.

this is where it all begins.
my heart in a red box.
on the streets of New York.

i get my picture taken and leave the next day.




its a long lazy afternoon of soaking in street atmosphere.
suddenly everything is pink.
the child attempting her balance.
an inattentive mother outside the cafe.
layers of shadows from the typical fire escape.
lolly pink surprises just outside of Soho.
I do love surprises.




the iconic Brooklyn Bridge.
after work.
you wouldn't know it.
it's all tourists.
the occasional chancer.
And the perfectly calm bike rider retains his peaceful pace.
i'm with him.
this is a place for wonder and stride.




it snowed in Times Square.
it was Easter.
we were trailing the streets when i took this picture.
the strange European moment in such an American city.
peaceful.
and Maxie's became very Moulin for me.




my Bedford st.
Brooklyn's bohemian heart.
the free paper boxes.
elaborate graffiti.
paint sprays and tags.
crazy with colour.
an overflow of life...
and the black clad stride of religion.
oh to find a more eclectic portrait of street life.

The Green Green Grass, Stephens Green, Dublin, Ireland

the crisp beginnings of summer.
bright light and colourful circles of people clustering on the fresh cut grass.

my first visit was five years ago.
people passing.
friends.
hours of talking, just sitting, taking in the sun... enjoying outside.

i came here in the cold of winter once.
we were an odd ensemble. for an important event.
a friends ashes scattered quietly.
a storm cracking open the thick clouds.
i walk past the place and smile at her.
then sit and let the landscape bring back memories.

even though i'm a long way from then i remember.
i let years pass and its bright again.

i choose a tree and leave my mark.
gently, quietly, respectfully.
on a younger tree, leaving a small section of my heart mingling with the plant life.

getting ready... comming soon