Salt on the Spokes
The air in Kerala has a specific weight, a damp thickness that clings to the skin like a damp linen sheet. It smells of drying nets, brine, and the sharp, metallic tang of rusted iron left too long in the spray. I remember the feeling of sand…
The Architecture of Silence
We often mistake the night for an absence, a hollow space where the world simply waits for the sun to return. But the dark is not empty; it is a heavy, velvet cloak that settles over the shoulders of the earth, demanding a different kind of…
Vanity Table by Barry Cawston
This photograph was taken in my girlfriends parents house, parts of which have not been touched for over twenty years. The peeling walls, cobwebs and random personal belongings all combined to produce an image which gave an insight into the…