The stories of my life on a little island in the middle of the Mediterranean sea ... and my occasional adventures beyond these shores.

Tuesday, 26 October 2010

A Painting In The Sky

Sometimes, when life gets too hectic and insane, I look out the window to catch a glimpse of the dying day. And what I see always makes me catch my breath. Because there is always a different painting in the sky.
Autumn sunset (3) 
Unparalleled beauty – perfect in every way.
Autumn sunset (5)
A few minutes of sheer enchantment before night falls and all the beauty is erased – until the next day.

Wednesday, 20 October 2010

Show Me A Picture And I’ll Tell You A Story

Of a city of water-ways, bridges and boats.
Tuscany 315
Of a man with a dream who would become king.
Tuscany 287
Lend me your ears and I’ll tell you the secrets
Of a ravaged fortress still guarding the land.
Tuscany 271
Give me your hand and I’ll show you the beauty
Of colours and textures
Tuscany 290
And sculptures and stones.
Tuscany 282
Reflections and churches;
Tuscany 302Tuscany 289
Graffiti and ruins.
Tuscany 311
Tuscany 322
All photos taken in the Nuova Venezia and port districts of Livorno in October 2009.

Tuesday, 12 October 2010

And Then The Clouds Rolled In

Rainy days 001    The thunder roared.
Rainy days 002
And the rain poured down.
Rainy days 003
It’s been a cloudy, rainy weekend and more rain is forecast for the rest of the week. I have loved every minute of it. The perfect weather to curl up and read. Something which I have neglected to do for quite a while. And although sometimes I miss the longer daylight hours of spring and summer, there is something deeply satisfying about closing the shutters, drawing the curtains and cocooning oneself inside a cozy house listening to the rain drumming a tattoo on the ground and losing myself in whatever real or imaginary world a good book will always take me.
Rainy days 005

Wednesday, 6 October 2010

A Cup of Memories

Old cup (2)
It’s not really much to look at – just a small cup with several chips and small cracks. Yet each time I hold it in my hands my heart skips a beat. This humble cup has been in my mum’s family for at least one hundred years. I remember it vaguely at my great-grandmother’s house and now it has passed on to me.
Old cup (3)
And each time I hold it in my hands I wonder what other hands have held it. Was it a child’s cup? Is it the only survivor of a whole set? It seems so fragile. How is it possible that it is still intact after all these years? If only it could talk … if only it could tell me … so many memories in one little cup.   Old cup (8)


Related Posts with Thumbnails