On the overpasses, cars crawl through the mirage, each one a sealed bubble of air-conditioned defiance. But the city doesn’t care. The heat is indifferent, eternal. It radiates from the concrete, rises in waves from the road, presses down from above: a three-dimensional sauna of light and dust. Somewhere behind all that sun-glare, the desert waits, unchanged and unimpressed. Continue reading Heat and Dust
But it’s not one that a Jack Tar would recognise. Instead of oakham, gunpowder smoke, tobacco and rum, I can smell oak polish, high-end perfume, old wood, and new money. It’s a curious blend, like Chanel No.5 dabbed behind the ears of Admiral Nelson. Continue reading The Liberty Timbers
The hills rise behind Abergavenny like a wall built by giants, steep, green, and unyielding. They are the town’s backdrop … Continue reading The Riddle of the Stones
The priory appears suddenly—half in ruin, half in shadow—as though it has risen from the earth itself. The surrounding hills form a vast amphitheatre, each ridge and fold reflecting the broken symmetry of the priory’s arches and towers. These aren’t just hills; they’re a congregation. And Llanthony stands at their centre, the altar to a forgotten order. Continue reading The Ruins of Llanthony
The railing is old, but sturdy. I lean on it and take in the view, swept by a mix of awe and vertigo. The wind up here feels purer, less of the earth and more of the sky. It tugs gently at the dry grass growing from cracks in the stone dome beside me, as though even the weeds want a view. Continue reading Stone and Sky
The sycamore stands like a sentinel. Its great limbs stretch outward, heavy with leaves, each one etched with veins like … Continue reading The Witness Tree
I love the element of danger and the ecstasy of flight… – Chris de Burg, I Love the Night It’s … Continue reading The Geometry of Lift
There is poetry in the old bridges of Wales, England, and Scotland. While castle walls and stately homes draw the … Continue reading The Doors of Crickhowell
The finest workers in stone are not copper or steel tools, but the gentle touches of air and water working … Continue reading THE FOREST OF STONE
I’ll never let you go If you promise not to fade away… … Continue reading NORTHERN LIGHT
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