There is something rather admirable about flowers. They get on with life without making a fuss. They do not hold meetings to discuss their future, worry about missed opportunities, or lie awake at 2am wondering why things have not gone according to plan. They just get on with the business of bloom. Human beings, unfortunately,
The Flowers will Bloom Anyway Read More »
There are days when the world seems to have misplaced its sense of direction, its spectacles, and possibly the instruction manual on how to find your way back to sanity. The outlook is gloomy, the weather is behaving like a disgruntled landlord, the to-do list is breeding overnight, and one begins to suspect that the
Hope, Growing Wild Read More »
There is something faintly embarrassing about realising that one has missed flowers. Not in the grand, poetic sense that poets pretend to feel, but in the quiet, practical way one notices an old habit has slipped away like a sock behind the washing machine. I used to photograph flowers rather often. They were patient subjects,
The Art of Missing Focus and Finding Joy Read More »
There is something faintly suspicious about flowers. They sit there in gardens, parks, vases and wedding bouquets, dressed in unapologetic colour — crimsons, yellows, purples so enthusiastic they border on theatrical — and dare you not to photograph them. Entire memory cards have been sacrificed at the altar of petals. Instagram, I am told, is
Monochrome Flowers Read More »