• photographs,  Writing

    all things pass

    The stones of the ruined church are warmed by the setting sun, giving it a temporary Hollywood glow despite its location in Galway, on a cold February day. The gate squeaks as she walks in, camera in hand, eager to capture the picturesque as the sky prepares for its transition to night. Despite living in the area for a long time she had not visited this church before, and now she realises there is a graveyard attached. She is fond of graveyards – they a familiar, comforting, presence. When she was a child she played in one close to her house. Sometimes she’d visit it at night, perch upon a…