I know a place where you can feel completely away from the world. In the middle of the woods, and far off the beaten track is a thicket of lush Rhododendron leaves.
Completely surrounded by vegetation, no-one knew I was there. The trees above were swaying gently in the breeze, but that was the only sound. The fresh scent of damp wood and earth permeated through the place. I had wanted for a long time to explore here; to carefully step right into the centre.
London is many things, light and dark. Perhaps nowhere else in England embodies the intersection between chaotic creation and destruction like this monolithic metropolis, that 8.6 million people call home.
There is something foreboding about London; to feel a little intimidated by ‘The Big Smoke’ is a sign of wisdom. The idea of London as the epicentre of historic dominion and oppression remains. You can very much feel the ghost of the terror and darkness that once inhabited the streets; lasting darkness of the kind immortalised in the poetry of William Blake. And everywhere little reminders lay, like the hopeless inequality which hangs heavy and leaden over this place. I have resisted London, although I cannot deny the cultural weight which is here.
In a city of such enormous contrast and energy, it felt right to take photos in black and white. My close friend William and I packed our bags, and set off into the mass.
I have been going to Bristol infrequently for some time now, and every time I do it is a different experience. There are so many areas, and hidden places to find. Without fail, it is an exciting place to be. My good friend Aimee and I wanted to take a day to dreamily delve into this varied city.
One overcast afternoon, me and Madison were in the city. We were aimlessly strolling with the intention of eventually finding our way to a tennis court for a game. The mood seemed to match the thick cloud which enveloped the sky, rolling swiftly past and intermittently dampening everything with light rain.
There are some things that just can’t go missing from my life for any extended period. Fresh bread is certainly one of them, and Rye bread has always hit a primal cord with me; something about the aroma of the flour, and the flavour. I set forth with friend Shannen in tow, to find somewhere to pick a loaf up.
Spring is here, there is an air of life in the air, a call to action to go outside and embrace the warmer weather that surely must be coming. What greater way to fulfil this than to walk the local environment. Accompanied by a great friend of mine Madison, we set out to wonder, and to find some local food.
This is a little diary of the things that took place on a trip back home to leafy Sussex over the Easter period past. It was great to have some peace time, to integrate everything that has been happening. Everything was very familiar, very comfortable.