Images #16 – Bewdley, Worcestershire

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Images #4

 

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All images / photographs are the property of Tim Phillips-white (2013). Please ask permission before copying or using these images.

 

 

 

Images #3

BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us ?
Must to thy motions lovers’ seasons run ?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school-boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices ;
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

Thy beams so reverend, and strong
Why shouldst thou think ?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long.
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and to-morrow late tell me,
Whether both th’ Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou left’st them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw’st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, “All here in one bed lay.”

She’s all states, and all princes I ;
Nothing else is ;
Princes do but play us ; compared to this,
All honour’s mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world’s contracted thus ;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that’s done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere ;
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.

The Sun Rising – John Donne

 

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All images / photographs are the property of Tim Phillips-White (2013). Please ask permission before copying or using,

 

Images #1

Closer to “something” – the settling of the Sun…..

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*All featured photographs / images are the property of Tim Phillips-White (2013) – Please ask permission before copying or using. One off editions of these prints are available to purchase. Please email for further information.

 

 

 

Random thoughts on the train to work, two

Feelings dip and spin. Squabbling children remind me of a lost time, of being young. I don’t know what happened to me; I lost myself somewhere along the way.  I don’t know where to begin. Frosty tracks, sun high in the sky. Days like this still begin so full of hope and promise. Steam rising from factories. Speeding through suburban estates into fields, trees bursting into life. The expectation of spring; of life renewing itself, the chance for a new start, of better things yet to come. This empty space remains, a future taking shape without you. An empty, ‘you’ shaped hole. Only you..