Archives de catégorie : little stories

#4213 little stories

photo: you think you have reached the end of the world and then you see this, Takile, Peru, Lake Titicaca

The advertisement was talking loudly, in the middle of this path, while the road blurred before my eyes which were trying to catch up with the silence I had come to find, to crush the hubbub in which I was participating as much as the others I was forced to acknowledge. Nevertheless, it was necessary to imprison this moment on the camera, I would come back to it later, I would remember the white letters on the red sign, the silence and the emotion of the moment.

#4212 ittle stories

photo: taken from the city tour bus in Buenos Aires: a beautiful lesson in the art of letting go, very useful to face the difficult times that the world is going through at the moment.

I was going somewhere but I forgot where, suddenly I wanted to rest under the sky, in the sun, to taste the spirit of the times, listening to the noises of the city,  to almost fall asleep in the buzz of life  and to stop worrying about the present.

#4182 little stories

photo: Paton’s rock, Golden Bay, the « cabbage trees » as well as many New Zealand trees, stretch out in the sky taking all kinds of poses, they would be mistaken for ghosts without too much difficulty, at certain times of the day.

Of course, in the light of day, we recognized them, but when the clouds covered the sky, when the storm was brewing or the dusk was setting in, we were no longer certain, we saw shadows, angels, soldiers, warriors, enemies, ghosts of whom we made legends, formidable stories that would fill our history. 

#4171 Little stories

photo : Botanical Garden, Nelson, slow  life

My encounters, during my morning walks , vary according to the time of day . Earlier ( in Nelson, for me , that means around nine​ o’clock ), I come across workers who have got up much earlier than me and  need a coffee or  something sweet, the homeless ,  emerging from the mists of the cold night ( yes , there are homeless people in Nelson, a recent phenomenon ), the workers  walking or cycling to work  ( Nelson is said to have become the capital of cycling ). They are dressed according to the temperature high of the day, around ten  thirty or eleven , therefore contrasting significantly with my clothes that are appropriate for the actual  temperature  when I go out , which means that my large bag gets the surplus of  clothes , when the temperature rises . Around ten o’clock , the city wakes up and warms up , the dog walkers , those ready to do their shopping or prefer to go out when the sun is more convincing are added in a small hubbub which remains ordered and rhythmic . In other words , in a city where nothing happens, something always happens.