Agreeable eye.

an eudæmonistarchives

Generally: views

A view (1)

sunset, haze, Greyfriars.

A view (2)

toss & turn.

A view (3)

sunset, Greyfriars.

A view (4)

clouds (not quite at sunset).

A view (5)

gutter, pigeon.

A view (6)


A view (7)

a Sunday afternoon in March.

A view (8)


A view (9)

night, Grayfriars.

A view (10)

guttering pigeon.

A view (11)

blue and orange.

A view (12)


A view (13)

kitchen window, snow.

A view (14)

present absent.

A view (15)

point of view.

A view (16)

Some people don’t need to worry about catching cold.

A view (17)

with polish

A view (18)

watching the rain

A view (19)

From the windows: the sound like the sea in the distance, cars crossing bridges crossing rivers leading to the ocean; the sharp cold color of the hills; shadows in the ridges, and white glaring light off the southern side of buildings; rusty leaves and the smell of ground and rotting chestnuts.

A view (21)

On the evening of my last day of work.

A view (22)

This I will miss.

A view (23)

Around 10:30 – f8/30 seconds.

A view (24)

From the balcony.

A view (25)

A view (26)

From the kitchen balcony.

A view (27)

A view (28)

More winter is on the way.

A view (29)

Graves in old Goris The day started out brilliantly sunny, and we went for a walk through the nineteenth century graveyards in the old village. By the afternoon, though, it was hailing – drops of ice the size of marbles mixed with torrents of rain.

A view (30)

Boiling the kettle for tea steams up the windows. Still no snow, though.

A view (31)

The sky is huge.

A view (32)

A view (33)

A view (34)

They said spring was dusty; they were not wrong.

A view (35)

Frostbound at home.

A view (36)

out and about

A view (37)

the open road

A view (38)

sunset, Portland.

A view (39)

sunrise, Portland

A view (40)

It rained most of the day.

A view (41)

… and it’s still snowing. …it was his professional dullness he had recovered, the dullness that he had assumed long ago, when he was still shy, in order to mislead the people he had to talk to, and that had become an almost unconscious reflex. – Georges Simenon (Maigret Has Scruples, p. 46)

A view (42)

A view (43)

Goris, Armenia, 2010 Going through my hard drive and tidying up all my old photos – discarding the blurred and the irretrievably badly exposed – brought up quite a few memories.

A view (44)

midday, Portland

A view (45)

evening, Portland.

A view (46)

snow, Zigzag.

A view (47)

midday, Newport.

A view (48)

A view (49)

ennui and falling.

A view (50)

poems, trees, mornings.

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