….is how photography goes for me. Now, I am sitting in an airport, looking at 25 hours to complete an 8 hours flight… and reflecting on how few photos I made in Holland this time. It was not a holiday, so I may perhaps be forgiven. But I did shoot pics of my friends, some long-lost.
(I met Bob, above, once in Libya, in Ghaddafi’s birth town. He drove in from Tripoli, I drove in from Marsa El Brega. We met half way. Small world.
Photos bring it all home.
What an great evening I just had in Utrecht, the Netherlands. Met up with an old friend, super-talented NOS journalist Jeroen Wielaert. Even though we hadn’t seen one another for almost 40 years, we had not changed one bit where it matters. Personality, stories, language, all the truly important things. A wrinkle or two more, or in my case a hair or two less, makes no difference.
And you owe it to yourselves to, if the same happens, take a proper photo, not just an iPhone shot.
And yours sincerely:
Great evening, all I can say.