Walking Commentary
Thoughts and cycling from Manchester to Rome in 2023
Sometimes an adverb is enough, as illustrated by poet Diarmuid Fitzgerald:
in the marshes
without my map –
joyously lost
Thames Way: haiku and tanka (Alba, 2015, page 27)
As a reflection seismologist, I spent four decades reducing sound echoes into visualisations of rock formations long buried from view.
As a photographer, I seek to capture incidents that might not otherwise be seen.
As a rambler, I try to emulate reflections: they leave no trace.
“The most important question we must ask ourselves is, ‘Are we being good ancestors?’”- Jonas Salk
One square kilometre of water bounded by some 1.5 million cubic metres of hewn rock, Dún Laoghaire Harbour was the the largest man-made harbour when the world popultion reached 1 billion.
‘Landscape photographer Michael Kenna said that he tries to ‘invite viewers into the frame to imagine, experience, sit awhile, meditate, be calm and quiet for some moments, before returning to their busy activities.’
I looked up and out to see a rainbow. The merest hint of a fleeting rainbow dragged a memory of red from deep within me. The memory was of an essay that Arthur C. Clarke wrote. The Light of Common Day was published in 1963 and he made a point that fascinated me when I read the essay many years later as an adult.
An early morning walk and a pathside discussion with another walker. And I’m at work, scouting sites for the April chapbook. And seeing interesting tones along the way while experimenting with black and white photography.
