We know that most things in life will come and go. That things change and nothing remains the same. The leaves fall off the trees in autumn, people split up, we move to different houses or a different city, we grow up and we grow apart. It’s one of the things I struggle with most in life but it’s also one of the things that fascinates me more than anything else; the impermanence of everything and how we try to hold on to what we have and what we know.
Sometimes all you need is a day out, a day off. To wake up and only then decide where to go, to get in a car, heading off for somewhere. What you need is a day of mid-May sunshine and heat, walking up the steps of an old, ruined castle to find the coolness waiting inside, the stonewalls crumbling under the weight of so many years.
During my childhood my dad would take photographs of our family with his heavy, black SLR camera, carried on a strap around his neck with a strange pattern in black, orange and purple colours. I remember having my photograph taken with it on holidays to Greece and Sweden; having to stop in random places when he had found a beetle he wanted to photograph and the blurry prints of the shiny beetles when they came back from the photo lab; sitting down on a low wall near a beach in Greece, smiling back at the camera as we posed for him.