These were shot on an old Russian Medium Format camera, a Kiev 88 TTL to be exact. They are untouched by photoshop, merely scanned and uploaded, hence the uneven crops and dust from the camera. These were shot using an Olympus OM2 I recently returned to film photography as I have a project in mind, […]
Last night I dreamt. Something or someone had come into my room and knelt beside my bed. In the darkness of the room they softly took my hand and taking my index finger, started to slide it over their mouth. I could feel their gentle exhalations on my fingertip. I felt them open their mouth […]
He recalled holding her hand for the first time, as he was holding it now, possibly for the last. The first time was on the pier. She had wanted to promenade like a Victorian lady, and even as she told him she started to laugh at her own words. He laughed too and agreed. Like […]
He had walked that rough path with her before, a life time ago it seemed now. Brushing past the nodding reeds, damp with salt from the marshes, he forced himself onwards to the edges. It was always the edge, the place where they both belonged now. She had told him once that it was only […]
The origins of the Saltdark Golem are lost in time, mixed with anecdote and myth. What is generally agreed upon is that the Golem was brought to the village, or created in the village, by a Polish Kabbalist fleeing the pogroms in Prague of the 1600’s. The Kabbalist, referred to as Abraham, although undoubtedly this […]
— I have sat at the feet of Sin. With lapis lazuli beard and Bull Of Heaven. Watched his children Utu & Inanna dance with Mother and Consort, Ningal. Gazed from on high at Ur and Harran, With Woolley reconstructions of Moon ziggurats, counting the steps and the days.
Deep in the Saltdark Marshes lies the village of Saltdark. This stark and unimaginatively named hamlet lies miles away from any other town in the area, and as such its dour and insular folk have little to do with outsiders. For centuries the villagers have worked the marsh, cutting its reeds to sell on to […]
The Musings Of Sardonicus 