For me, creation comes from creation. In deep green it is possible to find the spark necessary for a blaze. Surrounded by tall glass walls and cement, creation seems to wither and fade away. That’s not to say that I can’t write within a city setting, I just find that doing so is like digging […]Read more "Angels in the Garden"
“Words are air. Writing is forever.” – Fridge magnet The act of putting words onto paper is like bringing something to life. From soil or skin, something blooms and lives in reality. Ink drips slowly, soaks into paper and then forever more the truth is made. The intangibility of the blog is something that keeps […]Read more "On Paper Plains/Planes (Or: Again with the Changes)"
Here they come, stepping in line to a sombre drum beat, the Nazarenos. Their hoods rise to the night sky, penitent cloth and bare feet a symbol, a request. They march through the narrow streets, under rippling velvet banners displaying the colour and symbol of their church. They carry with them staves, candles, crosses and […]Read more "Murcia – Electric Holy Week (and a Half)"
I arrived in Germany in late 2015, with nothing and no one, save my suitcase and backpack, by my side. I was beginning my exchange, a six month university experience that saw me grow from a little, troubled bean of a person to a slightly taller sprout with a few of different troubles. I remember […]Read more "At Home Between Homes – Germany 2017"
The streets are alive and burning. Explosions ring out around every corner, constantly. Waves of people crash and collide around immovable buildings like frenzied liquid. Quite a few churros are eaten. It’s the Falles (or Fallas in Castellano), one of the biggest, brightest festivals in the world. And all holy hell has broken loose! Two […]Read more "Streets of Fire – Valencia During Falles"
I remember walking around Amsterdam on cold, dreary day in 2015 with two mates by my side and something of a home in Germany waiting for my return. I had been in the Netherlands for three days and had been in Germany for maybe two to three months. We walked past a hip, wood-paneled store, […]Read more "When Do You Stop Being a Tourist? – Bullas, Lorca & Caravaca"
“They come, rosy of skin and short of clothes. They seek our sun, our beaches, our paella, our way of life! Oh god, we’ve sold out of ice-cream… in January! Take to the castle, boys!” Alicante is a strange place. After Paris, I think it’s the most touristic city I’ve visited yet. Like others have […]Read more "A Slow, Pink Invasion – Alicante"