December Mornings

Of course, our eyes are cast towards the approaching Christmas festival, but here, on the edges, it doesn’t have the feel of something building. Instead, there is a lazy, languid, gait to our journey, mellow and hazy, the yellows of half-light.

We are in an urban prelude, an introduction to theme.

Within A Dampened Twilight

I love this photograph of Deansgate, Manchester, taken during a heavy rainstorm this August, 2019.

Taken from Deansgate Station, it has been likened to a Lowry painting.

It was taken by Simon Buckley, an artist whose photographs I discovered in his blog Not Quite Light, featuring photographs of the older, northern parts of the city that I love when, well, it was not quite light.

His blog led me to his website, where you can view and purchase copies of his prints:

One Of Those Nights; One Of Those Mornings

It was one of those nights. The view from my midnight gate: a myopic, cataract-obscuring gloom; a cold mist blurring the edges of our focus-the wall’s crowning like a diamond adorned crust, a new gift, a vision.

Within the night, within our perimeters, we need to know both our boundaries and our limitations.

It was one of those mornings. Crawling over the hill, a tepid promise for the evening’s hostilities; bait to entice us out into the town. Tidal lanes for those who consume or are themselves consumed, condemned forever to travel these seasonal tides.

On the cusp of the day, we need to embrace each new offering with both instinct and wisdom.

Manchester: Festive Fire

I thought I’d share these photographs of a recent visit into Manchester city centre with you all. Having made this journey hundreds of times I could be forgiven for getting a bit blasé about it, though it’s not often I’ve been treated to such a dramatic sky. There is no filter as there’s no photograph of me. If there was I just couldn’t inflict an untreated snap of myself on you guys. This is the route into ‘town’ as we call it, awaiting us with its festive markets.

Shadows of my hometown at my back, we head towards the blazing city.

Halfway there. With bluffs of cloud and golden skies, the dusk of twilight is truly my favourite time of the day.

The monolithic towers framed in the distance, we reach the edge of the city.

We park up a five minute minute walk away. The fire of the sky reflected in the water of the ground, the elements greet our approach.

In Angel Square, now forever known to me as ‘Laura’s Place’, the juxtaposition of shadow and light continues as the sun slips away.

The low, white roof in the background is close to the scene of the Arena bombing in May of last year.

The Christmas markets in St. Ann’s Square. Roughly where this first stall is, welcoming you to the markets, is where the many thousands of floral tributes began last year in the aftermath of the bombing. Tributes to the twenty two victims.

How different the mood is now. Everything is altered by time. Even you and I, reading this line, maybe in different time zones.

Sending greetings to you all, in whichever city and time zone you find yourself in. Hope you got a good sleep!