The collection of photos you can see here covers a broad spectrum of tastes, concerns and outlooks, which may at first sight seem irrelevant. Yet, sorting and carefully comparing the
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A Rainbow: Your Troubles Melt Like Lemon Drops You sit before me. Time has been lost With no gain. Hours can pass When you sit by the lake. A leader
It’s common to hear photojournalists described as the eyes of the world, acting as witnesses to events that we would otherwise not see. To some extent this is true, but
Good news, it infuses this issue with a sense of joy, and with an aspect of carefree childhood seized in flight. There is a feeling of solemnity, but a tender
When they came to tell us that farming without farmers could exist we smiled. But now we have uninhabited expanses of land, mechanization, greenhouse plants untouched by human hand.
Since we are living, to a large part, in a socially constructed world – think of the legal system or of bureaucracy, for instance –, social reports can be pretty
Big changes are happening in photography today, and we cannot blame digital photography for all of these upheavals. The close connection between photography and reality has not been called into
I recently made a train journey in France. Leaving from Paris but, and this is what I asked the ticket seller at the station…
A living environment is a defined terrain where actual and imaginative perceptions are mutually experienced. The current flow of global information intensifies the simultaneous sense of personal space, and images
Gray and self assured and solid it moves forward / on its damp and endless journey while yesterday’s ambulances go back and forth / back and forth in my brain…
Ah, these are the leaders /These are the leaders – / Madmen in suits. / Believing in numbers, percentages and sanity / Drawing bar-charts to rationalize tanks and air strikes…
I felt like walking with you in the woods / no daffodils but many trees / not really black, or green – no fairy-tale – / but sweet air and
Of all the things in the ad what attracted me / Was the beauty of Sarah / And I stood there, or sat, today, Friday morning, / A winter sun
The buoys of memory have faint bells, noticed in the night. / I have left these chiming seamarks for the time of my return…