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I love the way nature can catch you by suprise and force you to stop and take it in. These patterns in the snow, caused by the wind, fascinated me the moment I saw them. This photo is in The Guardian as part of the World Forum On Enterprise And The Environment exhibition at Oxford
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She only ever plays a few notes. The sounds so small and weak you have to stop and concentrate to hear them. But most people simply walk on by. Amid the hubub of the street, her music goes unheard, drowned out by the incessant din of life. Sometimes you’ll catch a passerby throwing a glance
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I’m peddling along the Prinsengracht, late in the afternoon. Dawdling really, because it’s a go slow kind of day, because it’s warm and the trees are green and the tourists are out and about again, mulling around outside the Anne Frank House, and not looking where they’re going. Which always makes me laugh for some
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There must have been something so absolute about it, so certain about it, when he looked down. A 54 metre drop. 110,000 cubic metres of water plunging over the edge each minute. The froth and rage of water as it hits the Niagara River. You throw yourself into that abyss expecting nothing other than obliteration.
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[I went for a walk with the dog. This is what I encountered] Perhaps it was the wind that caught him unaware. After a week of damp south westerlies there was a sudden about turn. A sharp chill from the east that brought with it deceptively blue skies and a last hurrah of summer enthusiasm.
