Finally. I thought it was about time.
My friends' blogs brim with such beautiful words; some are splashed with colour through a film or digital camera, and it's always made me yearn to have a space of mine too.
A casual log of current thoughts, not too much writing for me I presume. A space for me to share what I've been blessed enough to experience and see.
This similar thought occurred to me 6 years ago when I realised the depth of photography. Instagram quickly became my digital diary, no one really used it at the time.
I was doing nothing fancy— I liked to take a walk in the woods every Saturday morning with a simple digital camera. My lens would only show interest in the daisies that I picked to make into a crown and the blackberries that I snacked on. I would snap away at the auburn leaves falling from its branches or the field of heather in which I lay. Portraits, landscapes or architecture, never intrigued me back then.
This place, Wimbledon Common sparked my love for crisp air mornings and slow weekend strolls. This summer, I re-visited London, and the cosy neighbourhood of Wimbledon which I still call "home".
Everything was unchanged since I had left—my brother and I indulged in this soothing corner of Wimbledon: far away from the bustle of the local bakeries and the energy of families with their toddlers.
The whistling air , rustling of leaves and birdcalls.
Sometimes the silence was broken by the trotting of horses, reminding us of the horse riding sessions we had when we were younger.
Catching the last breezes of summer in the reminiscent town, I was refreshed and ready for the next coming year of university—my final year in France.