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An old haybarn from when this area was farmland. Sutton, south London.
Start of foopath heading out to the river and water meadows.
My new toy
Yellow rose
Not even high tech any more. This is the spindle, platter, actuator arm and read/write head of an old 20Gb hard disk drive. Common or garden precision engineering living in a cardboard box, waiting to be thrown away.
Chair looking for a good home.
An arrangement of chrysanthemums
The shoppers return after the rain.
The girders could almost be railway tracks, the other way around.
Inspired by John Gossage’s The Pond. It’s a pale imitation of the original.
The cat at Christmas, gazing out into the street.
The beautiful ice formations on leaves on a cold, fresh morning,
The lonely Winter Crow.
Life in the rain-slick streets of Old Tech City is harsh. Make one mistake and they tear you apart, rip out your insides, and replace you with something new and shiny. Then you’re left on the scrap heap with your innermost workings exposed to idle curiosity.
Fire escape reflected.
Reflections of trees in a puddle at the roadside.
Leaves reflected in a shop window.
Early morning, and Next Door’s Cat is dismayed at merely being peered at through a gap in the curtains.
Fence disappearing into shadow.
The evening light catching the rails at Dorchester South station.
Ancient trees becoming one with the whole woods.
The artist at work, waiting for the moment.
Reflections of the grand Brighton Pavilion, ignored by passers-by.
Even the mundane can be captivating from the right angle.
When barriers break down with passing time they still leave jagged reminders to catch us. And then new barriers are put up in their place. Are we on the inside or the outside?
My entry for the “Low Key” challenge on 52Frames. Light-painted with an LED torch.
Jurassic World escapee
The art of Orange Row in Brighton.
Scavenging seagulls trying to tidy the table, being disturbed.
Walk in the country on a beautiful mid-summer evening.
The back of the shops, floating like a genie. Or are they?
Self Portrait, after Anton Corbijn.
Early in the morning the fun is fenced in.
Dark sky, rainy day. St. Paul’s still standing above the modern city around.
Sad, apparently forgotten little car. It hasn’t moved for a long time.
Comfy, welcoming armchair. Not great for TV, but perfect for reading or napping.
Horse drinking from Rushy Pond.
A temporarily empty Waterloo Station platform.