figuring things out

Although there were a surprising number of people out in the park around sunrise this morning, I managed to avoid them appearing in all the photos I took except one.

And although I usually prefer pictures without any people in, now I’ve looked closer at this one, I reckon that the figure actually adds something to the composition.
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a bit of a blur

The year got off to a slow start for me.

Business had slackened in the run-up to Christmas and the year was essentially over mid-way through December. Then we went through a strange kind of limbo over the holiday period: I knew there wouldn’t be many new projects coming in from clients, but I was too tired to do much work on my own stuff. Finally, realising that no one else was likely to get back into the swing of things business-wise until after the school term started, I decided to actually go away for a proper break and try and recoup.
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a different perspective

I have pointed out on many occasions that looking at things from different angles and perspectives can result in a very different view and understanding of any situation.

I’ve also expressed a tendency to look upwards and be positive about things. But this week I was reminded that sometimes the view is better when you look down on things.

As seen in the picture above, the cathedral in Birmingham was rather spotty viewed through the autumn trees at ground level. But I had the chance to go up to the sixth floor of one of the building in the square and it was definitely a better – and clearer – view.
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a sense of scale

There are things that we see and hear that are forgotten in a moment, and other things that stay with us for many, many years.

The things that stick with us can come from any number of different sources and, while some may be profoundly important and shape the way we see life from that moment onwards, others are as trivial as a phrase that continues to echo in memory or a scene from a TV programme that has no relevance to anything at all.
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a little background

Years ago, I belonged to a mixed-genre writing group. I was one of the few members who primarily wrote poetry, so I was delighted when another poet – Don, an American university professor – settled in the city for a few months and started to attend meetings with his wife. (I can’t remember what she wrote; it may have been academic writing rather than creative.)

I’ve often thought that poets get short-changed at writing groups as they are expected to give feedback on all the other members’ work in a range of genres, but frequently get no useful comments about their poems.
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