A week up in the North of England, an evening stroll and a camera. Just a few shots from this set, all the time I have to get them ready. Tomorrow I head home, always a good direction to head in. At the end of this post, as it’s National Poetry Day, I have a short piece for you to read, let me know what you think.
It is always amazing how much things can change over a few minutes from oranges to blues and deepening into grey and black.
For National Poetry Day.
Being Somewhere
Being displaced, different,
away.
I am North, an unknown.
I am a stranger.
Every word is a dislocation,
an admission,
I am not of here,
of hills and dark walls,
of strange names.
Each night I sleep, wait
for the sun,
wait for my shadow to fall
behind me. To wait for one day.
To wake,
and I am home.
A walk through the world between places 