Crossing A Broken Bridge

Broekn BridgeAfternoon adventures are uncovering the places we often fail to find the time to discover. A quiet hour under the canopies of large trees. Trampling over broken branches and dried leafs, bird songs and in the distance the faint raw of city traffic. Air freshens. The smell of decay and new life contrive together to confuse the senses. Arrive at an opening with tumbled tree trunk for a seat. A flask of tea, sandwich and read a book. A profound silence descends that is only broken by the gentle breeze that stirs the trees. Close eyes, deep breath and exhale. Gather things and embark on the journey. Arrive at the broken bridge and say hello to the familiar figure standing on the other side.

8.20pm on 17th July 2016

Never look back, it is said and on several occasions, I would tend to agree with such sentiments. Not tonight though as a gentle breeze eased the Mediterranean, I am left pondering. My journey this evening had started some 30 years ago with the opening up of a personal pension. My stated ambition at the time was to retire at 55 years old, travel and take photographs. While sitting at home during October 2015, a letter dropped on the hallway floor. It was the pension company’s so-called “wake up” letter informing me that my ambition to retire at 55 was fast appearing, and it was time to review the plan. It’s 8.20pm on 17th July 2016 I looked across the bay, raised the camera to my face, took a deep breath and pressed the button. There are so many people to thank, so many observations to make, to reflect on the good, the bad and the ugly which will come later, but for now, I will continue to take photographs.

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