Everything I Know About Light I Learned at the Sink
I did not study photography. I just spent years washing up at a window that faces east.
Essays, recipes and photographs, posted whenever something is worth keeping.
I did not study photography. I just spent years washing up at a window that faces east.
I keep this on the inside of the cupboard door, and I add to it whenever I catch myself rushing.
Every house has a drawer of things too good to use, and I have started to think of it as a small museum of fear.
It started as an accident, when I left it on the kitchen table, and it turned into the best habit I have.
I have never met anyone who was in a bad mood at the rail of a small ferry.
In April, when the harbour is still grey, I like to watch someone else’s spring arrive on film.
There is an hour at the end of Sunday that has a particular weather of its own, and I have spent years trying to do something about it.
I keep a list of bookshops I want to visit before I die, and it grows faster than I can travel.
For the first thirty years of my cooking life I thought I was bad at food. It turned out I was bad at salt.