Each day I scavenged time to scratch down notes – on the ferry, the bus, at lunch, in the hotel…review, edit, markup, read, re-read, change and so on.
Film brought me here. Thirteen years have passed since my lens last scanned these views. I have changed…
– the English Channel lapping at the shoreline – waves cresting and breaking while on the horizon the sails of little ships hint at what once was here. One can only imagine in this place.
Perhaps these happenstance words I gather may become useful, perhaps they will bond with me to capture Orion’s (the hunter’s) day from the Tyndall Blue?
“To my dear nephew Wantmore love from Auntie Miniver, Christmastime at Kemmelberry”.
I have many time on visits to London wandered past the Café de Paris, once hopeful to perhaps visit but this did not come to pass.
…we head south-east and arrive at Dickebusch. It is not unnoticed that as we arrive the church bells ring eleven times.
Here amongst Ypres…I begin to settle in my peace. One step less today – to benefit two steps tomorrow.
A walk through the town’s industrial area finds various appeals to the eye. Images of distress, rust, shapes, textures, discordance…
Goldfinger is sure to drive up the roadway as the camera pans to the left with my steady gaze stirred but not shaken following.