“Sácale una foto; te gusta hacer fotos de cosas muertas.”
Sometimes I think people – even my closest friends and family – have entirely the wrong idea about me.
We were walking along the shores of the Embalse de Valdecañas in Extremadura, looking for flat stones to skim when we came across the poor creature desiccated by the sun. I’m not sure I’ll ever write a poem that I can use the photo to illustrate, but I took it anyway. **
Continue reading “high and dry”
The window of the latest hotel room doesn’t offer much of a view. But I’ve always like red brick and it would be a lot more depressing if there weren’t that glorious unbroken blue sky.
Continue reading “room with a view”
En un lugar de La Mancha, driving
along an empty motorway, we see
giants on the horizon. Full tilt
we race towards them.
Long arms whirl and sharp blades
slice the air. We hear aeolian music
serenading Dulcinea.
We’re always so keen to be moving on to new beginnings, I though it might be good to dawdle a bit, like the river is doing at the moment.
Unlike the year we moved here, when I heard the water through the open windows on the first night and thought it was pouring with rain, this year the river is very low and practically silent.
So, however inconvenient the heavy rain is, I’ll have to hope for a wet winter. Or a very cold one, so there’s plenty of snow to thaw and fill the rivers next spring. (See what I mean about always wanting new beginnings?)
Continue reading “first day of autumn”
In reality, the mountains were even redder and the moon was rather clearer. Clicking on the photo will give a bigger, slightly brighter, version.
(If you’re wondering, yes, it’s “shopped”, inasmuch as I cloned out some cables. If I’d walked far enough to take the picture without them being in the way, the colours would have been completely lost.)
don't confuse the narrator 