So I took my guitar And I threw down some chords And some words I could sing without shame And I soon had a song I played it around For some friends but they all said the same They said music’s for fools You should go back to school The future is prisons and math […]
‘the time has come to say fair’s fair
to pay the rent, to pay our share
the time has come, a fact’s a fact
it belongs to them, let’s give it back’lyrics – midnight oil, beds are burning
As at 16:00 on Friday, 25 October 2019 the right of the public to clamber over this place came to an end in recognition of the reverence in which it is held by the indigenous people of Anangu.
Australia retains a firm hold on a part of me, her spirit locked down tight, forever, deep inside.
It is impossible to be indifferent concerning this continent of colour, contrast and contradiction. Much of this beautiful, desolate land remains unexplored by many who live there.
Perhaps one of the last places on earth that holds tight some of its oldest stories.
As a Deputy Secretary in the Australian Government, I was privileged to travel across this wide brown land, exploring places almost as far away from our urban environment as it is possible to be.
Maybe I will write more about that.
Uluru is not a rock.
It is an irrepressible force of nature.
A powerful psychic force that ensnares you from the moment you first see it whether from the air or up close and personal. There is a visceral thrumming in the air. A song from the past that captures your mind, your body, your soul.
Away from the inevitable tourist traps there is no sound. Only the whispers of the ancestors.
I am happy that this place has been given back to those whispering souls.
There are too few places left in the world that move us and re-connect us to our roots, to the essence of our humanity.
Imagine also, how much a boy from the Rossendale valley felt blessed when sharing a flight and snatched conversation with Peter Garret, lead singer with Midnight Oil, and then Minister for the Environment, Heritage and the Arts.
How do we sleep when our beds are burning?
It starts by smelling the smoke and doing something about it.
No?
Images made in November 2009 with Nikon D70 and Nikkor 18-70mm f/3.5-4.5 DX lens
i’ll be there as soon as I can
but I’m busy mending broken
pieces of the life I had before
in a tight corner
do they toll for thee?
they also serve who only perch and wait
bound and confined
reach for the sky
will you still love me?
fleeting romance
stacked
haunted
*all images made with nikon d700 with nikkor 200-500mm f/5.6 and 50mm f/1.4 lenses, developed in lightroom cc*
bajo el puente
bajo el puente
— Read on salamancastreets.com/2019/03/19/bajo-el-puente/
The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.
St. Augustine
The clue to this post is in the title, which is a clumsy attempt to wrap multiple concepts into a single pithy phrase.
Among my resolutions this year were to write and shoot more. Rather dismally I have failed to respond well to my own resolutions. This does of course make choosing next year’s resolutions so much easier, as I plan to have another go.
However, I am happy to report that I have read a lot this year. And I will write about that also. In due course, the fullness of time, and so on.
I have also travelled a great deal. A very great deal. And, that is also something I intend to write about on the same terms as above.
I am not comfortable with my personal carbon footprint this year. So, trees will need to be planted. Probably enough to stock a decent sized hillside.
What prompted this post was my need to share (other than on my FB page) my journey home.
this seat is mine mine, for the time it takes to cross, the desert to cross, from there to here, a part, of me is no longer mine lost with all the other parts, along, the way lost by all, those others, who said this seat, is mine
This post features a diminutive lady called Lucy, an emperor by the name of Haile, a few flip-flop wearing parasol bearing clerics, the Red Terror, Sylvia the suffragette, some spicy sauce, and St. George (or at least an eponymous beer).
You have been warned.
This week, Ben Huberman‘s challenge for the WordPress Weekly Photo challenge is ‘out of this world‘.
In framing his challenge Ben suggested that we ‘share a photo that takes a familiar scene — a place you frequent, a face you know well, an activity you engage in regularly — and makes it look and feel like something out of this world’.
I’ve always had a slight problem in answering the (right) question, or at least reading the question and then coming up with an appropriate answer.
In any event, Ben also said ‘Feel free to interpret the theme as loosely as you see fit. I look forward to seeing your photos!’. So, in a lazy moment, characterised by a certain slice of synchronicity, I found a hook for framing a post that I was going to write anyway.
The problem with my world at the moment is that the places I frequent fluctuate with a frenetic and feverish frequency. And the activity that I seem to engage in with the greatest frequency is that of being a frequent flyer.
Which is a rather long-winded way of sharing some snaps from my latest adventure. It’s not ‘out of this world’ but it was a new part of the world for me.
And I think that must count for something?
Waiting for you to come along
Waiting for you to hear my song
Waiting for you to come along
Waiting for you to tell me what went wrongWaiting For The Sun – The Doors
Lizard, waiting, in Akosombo, Ghana, for WP Weekly Photo Challenge – Waiting
I think it is a male West African Rainbow lizard (‘agama agama africana’). If you know more, please do say.
*Shot with Fujufilm X100F and fixed 23mm (35mm full frame equivalent) lens at ISO 200, f/4 and 1/150s*
Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, the hours are going by. The past increases, the future recedes. Possibilities decreasing, regrets mounting
– Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance
for WordPress weekly photo challenge – Textures
*Image(s) shot with iPhone 6S and merged with Snapseed*
