Friday, March 17, 2006


Surrounded by stars, but staring at the gutter

Call me perverse, but i seem to spend my days these days documenting the instances of the peculiar grotesque around me, rather than the beautiful in this city famous for its beauty. I invite you to share with me the following:

A sweet couple waiting for the bus

You can always trust soap advertisements to hit a cutsy note.

And lets just look a little closer. Why does this baby have empty eyes? Does the soap also suck out your soul?

An art lover at an exhibition in the Pitti. His interest in beauty cannot be restrained from spilling over into his ties.

Boys will be boys

The Madonna and child - they came from outer space

A nation's hope - the new generation

Escaped bear woman loose in Florence!

Man on bus

Monday, March 06, 2006


The Heart grows fonder?

It has been many moons since I last posted. I can hardly remember what it was like to sit at my desk, hunched over in my claustrophobic office in Kabul, venting my frustrations on the page.

It has been crazy busy since I left Afghanistan, and now things are settling down a bit, and I am considering returning to the blog. Since I last posted, my programme collapsed (maybe I will talk about that at some point, but it is too depressing for the moment - a part of the burgeoning SHODDY sector of NGO activities in Afghanistan, I am afraid.)

Things are good now. My young bride is now with child, and I am thinking of becoming a professional thinker, if they'll have me.

As for the fate of the blog... I may have to say goodbye to these pages. I am now living in Florence, Italy, and I don't want to disappoint people. Then again, I quite like the idea of filling my blog with pictures of Rennaisance architecture so that the casual visitor to the sight says to himself 'Hey... reconstruction really seems to be working.' Any thoughts?

The comparison between Kabul and Florence is amazing though. Three months into my time here, I still marvel at the wonderfully engineers pavements.

For the moment then, while I dicker, a pair of photos of my past and my present: a sweet one of a couple of policemen holding hands, plus one of my morning commune across the Arno.



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