Morning Walk
Each morning I walk with our dog. The walks are not particularly long and, nearly always, follow the same route. We turn left out of the gate and walk along the road that passes the pompiers, the small local fire station at the edge of the village, into the valley that links us to Beaumont, the village beyond. Behind Beaumont are the hills and over the hills is the mountain. The cabanes is a tiny, dilapidated two storey house at the side of the road about two kilometres from home. I sometimes take my camera.
This project, published as a book, is the transcript of the first 100 days of WhatsApp messages I sent to my uncle as he was undergoing treatment for cancer together with analogue photographs taken on my walks during the same period.
14 March 2022
It was damp today. The rain from the night had stopped but the road was awash with puddles and the trees looked as though they had rows of tiny dimmed fairly lights hanging from the branches.
The sky was full of various colours of grey with a horizontal strip of light just above the Beaumont hills that was tinged pink as we left the house and turned a furious orange as we walked. The wet blossom petals on the road looked like sad forgotten confetti from a long forgotten party.
