Tag: Travel

lisbon oriente / kodak tmax p3200

Posted in analog, Chinon CP-7M, Photography, street photography, UncategorizedTagged , , , , 1 Comment

I had this roll of Kodak Tmax P3200 sitting in my fridge for absolute ages. So long that I couldn’t remember quite when or why I bought it. It’s not like I have much opportunity for night photography. Eventually I loaded it in my dad’s old Chinon and lugged the brick of a camera with me to Lisbon back in January. My hotel was just around the corner from Oriente station, so it was easy to go for a walk there at night and not have to carry the heavy camera around for too long.

I shot the rest of the film in varying light conditions, including on the London Underground and at an evening reception for a wedding (fair enough results), as well as in broad daylight with sunny conditions (high grain and pretty low contrast as expected). I’m most pleased with the shots below. So much so, that I almost don’t want to share them. Very me of me. 🙂

thoughts as deep as the blue sea

Posted in Digital, Mobile, Photography, TravelTagged , , 2 Comments

Spotted this guy sitting on the rocks and having a think to himself.

Bohemia Lies by the Sea – Ingeborg Bachmann

If houses here are green, I'll step inside a house. 
If bridges here are sound, I'll walk on solid ground. 
If love's labour's lost in every age, I'll gladly lose it here.

If it's not me, it's one who is as good as me.

If a word here borders on me, I'll let it border. 
If Bohemia still lies by the sea, I'll believe in the sea again. 
And believing in the sea, thus I can hope for land.

If it's me, then it's anyone, for he's as worthy as me.
I want nothing more for myself. I want to go under.

Under – that means the sea, there I'll find Bohemia again. 
From my grave, I wake in peace. 
From deep down I know now, and I'm not lost.

Come here, all you Bohemians, seafarers, dock whores, and ships 
unanchored. Don't you want to be Bohemians, all you Illyrians, 
Veronese and Venetians. Play the comedies that make us laugh

until we cry. And err a hundred times, 
as I erred and never withstood the trials, 
though I did withstand them time after time.

As Bohemia withstood them and one fine day 
was released to the sea and now lies by water.

I still border on a word and on another land, 
I border, like little else, on everything more and more,

a Bohemian, a wandering minstrel, who has nothing, who 
is held by nothing, gifted only at seeing, by a doubtful sea, 
       the land of my choice.