Will you love me in December as you do in May?
― Jack Kerouac
It comes to this: like all of us who have not yet died of plague he fully realizes that his freedom and his life may be snatched from him at any …
So I took my guitar
And I threw down some chords
And some words I could sing without shame
And I soon had a song
I played it around
For some friends but they all said the same
They said music’s for fools
You should go back to school
The future is prisons and math
So I did what they said
Now my children are fed
‘Cause they pay me to do what I’m asked
I forgot all my songs
The words now are wrong
And I burned my guitar in a rage
But the fire came to rest
In your white velvet breast
So somehow I just know that it’s safe
Lyrics by Low, Death of a Salesman
*images made with love with Nikon D850, Nikkor 24-70mm f/2.8E VR*
‘..through me you go into a city of weeping
through me you go into eternal pain
through me you go amongst the lost people’
― dante alighieri, the inferno
The images which follow were made in, of all places, a convent.
The ‘Convento de las Duenas’, tucked away in a quiet corner of Salamanca.
One can only imagine what passed through the minds, and souls, of those who walked these cloisters, once upon a time.
A different world.
Or is it?
Perhaps not so much.
*all images made with fujifilm x100f with fixed 23mm (35mm full frame equivalent) lens, tweaked in lightroom cc with fujifilm acros filter added in post*
“The bulls are my best friends.”
I translated to Brett.
“You kill your friends?” she asked.
“Always,” he said in English, and laughed. “So they don’t kill me.”
― Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises
Graffiti emblazoned remains of a disused bull-fighting arena nestle uncomfortably behind bars amidst an affluent ‘urbanización’. Eerie silence shrouds the abandoned amphitheatre. Distant echoes linger amidst the litter strewn pens. Serried rows of cold concrete stand in witness to battle and blood.
A stone’s throw away children laugh in a newly completed park. Football pitches and gym equipment laid out amidst newly planted trees serve a different purpose to this stone enclosed ring.
Images made with Fujifilm X100F with fixed 23mm (35mm FF equivalent) and processed in Lightroom and Analog Efex Pro 2.
Every man’s life ends the same way.
It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another
– Ernest Hemingway
With thanks to Felix and Mamen, and our fellow guests, for a beautiful evening full of light, good food and wine, and the opportunity to photographs the bulls on a glorious late summer evening.
Gracias a Felix y Mamen, y a nuestros compañeros invitados, por una hermosa noche llena de luz, buena comida y vino, y la oportunidad de fotografiar a los toros en una gloriosa tarde de verano.
*All images made with Nikon D700 with Nikkor 200-500mm f/5.6 lens*
our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty”
― albert einstein
hoopoe, youpoe, weallpoe
who am i?
I wonder, would it be true and fair to describe Spain as the home of ‘fiestas’?
Each town, each community, often has more than one day set aside each year to celebrate one thing, or another.
Perhaps none has a celebration quite as distinctive as that held in Salamanca each year. Hot on the heels of the solemn processions and religous observance over Easter comes Lunes de Agua.
Literally ‘water Monday’, the (half) day fiesta which begins in the middle of the afternoon, on the Monday which follows Easter Monday, brings everyone in the family (young and old) together to celebrate the day on which, by long-standing tradition (dating back to the reign of Felipe II) the prostitutes of this ancient University city, banished during Semana Santa from its beautiful streets and plazas, were repatriated (with pomp and circumstance) from the far side of the river Tormes by boat. The option of simply walking back across the Roman bridge which lies in the shadow of the cathedrals apparently deemed inappropriate due to the nature and terms of their employment also described as ‘living in sin’.
The students of the city did not miss this opportunity to hold a wine soaked riverside party as they took to their oars to return the banished to their place of work.
To this day students of all ages are released from their studies to celebrate this liberation, friends and family across the city seize the moment to come together and celebrate.
A slightly less salacious aspect of the day is the tradition of eating hornazo, a delicious savoury pastry that (in my view at least) is best consumed after a long walk and accompanied by a decent bottle of red.
Which brings me to my photos, taken during a walk with friends at Ganadería Herederos Angel Sánchez Sánchez in the beautiful provincial countryside just a few km outside the city.
And yes, with thanks to our kind hosts and friends, hornazo and decent red were consumed.
*all photos shot with fujifilm x100f with fixed 23mm lens (35mm full frame equivalent) developed in lightroom cc with fujifilm ‘provia’ simulation applied*
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
– The Road not taken, Robert Frost
An expedition along the Ruta de la Plata which traces the path of a still visible Roman road known as the Via de la plata.
Along the road which winds its way from Mérida to Astorga, we had a close encounter with a frisky bull and a less than adequate fence, (two) group(s) of brightly clad bikers, a couple of donkeys, some bees and some very friendly locals in a bar in Peñacaballera.
The incident with the bull involved a degree of clear, present and imminent danger and I felt stopping to take a portrait shot would perhaps have been inadvisable. The bull which features below was of a much calmer disposition, much less exciting than its cousin back along the way.
And of course there were photographs. There will probably also be blisters, aches and assorted pains.