Victoria Amelina wrote that ‘as long as a writer is still read, they remain alive’. I found myself looking out to sea in the west of Ireland the day after she was buried. I wept into the rain on hearing the breeze whispering fragments of swimmers’ words.
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Via Graffiti
I planned to document a bicycle trip from Cheshire to Kent with images of street art. I imagined this afterword would be drawn from street artists’ words and ideas. Yes, I’d expected that murals and graffiti would be ubiquitous. But no, there was less urban scrawl than I’d expected, especially rare in the heritage parklands of the Peak District. Instead, it was the elusive Chiffchaff that inspired us.
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Serial Killer
There is a serial killer at large in Munster. There have been ‘wanted posters’ and full page ads in the local press that offer a reward. The 19th century-style campaign for justice is seeking information that will stop the murders by conviction. It’s such a big reward (and such a horrible crime) that it made the news.
On Feeders and Dots
I made some notes this morning as I was having my coffee and granola. I’d been thinking about today’s perihelion before I was diverted. The sun, if you see it, is five million kilometres closer than it will be in July though it’s not much closer than it was yesterday or will be tomorrow. So don’t expect it look any bigger.
I needed a 400 mm zoom to share the charming goldfinches and solo siskin with you.
Divers Return
We met some people on the pier this morning and while talking, I noticed a few seabirds had come close enough to be identified. Great northern divers (or common loons) in winter plumage. It had rained so hard over the night that I decided not to bring a camera. I had guessed the light would be dull, that the storm would have caused the sea to raise sand from the sea floor and muddy the waters. And besides, it might have rained again.