WORDLESS WEDNESDAY TRUNKS TELL TALES

I wonder, as with love and hate,which came first- bark almost buried blindor the sweet lie of this lichen grown over as if you where the breath to its lung,the furrow to its field, the ground to its grass, the remnants of its final stand. All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly

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PICTURING PARIS, THE LAST BLUSH 

Today felt like the last blush of summer sunshine on the city that always shimmers, both in shadow and shade. These are some photo highlights I took this morning on my morning potter through the 5th arrondissement; heralded by Hemingway, the sunflower filled Jardin des Plantes and the touch of autumn rainfall on my shoulder […]

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