Edited by Jim McCrory, Monday 4 August 2025 at 17:18
Image by Copilot
The Ache of Belonging
In 1999, I was living and working in Norway, a country that felt both distant and strangely familiar, like a dream half-remembered. One evening, as I sat alone gazing over the stillness of the fjord, Return to Innocence by Enigma drifted from the radio, a haunting echo of something lost and timeless. The sky turned gold as the sun, a great burning sphere of silence am descended over the water.
In that moment, image and emotion became inseparable, no photograph could have captured what I felt. The melancholy wasn’t sadness exactly, but a longing, an ancient aching for something just out of reach, yet all around me.
I felt no boundary between myself and the world. I was not observing creation; I was inside it, woven into its stillness and light.
The Ache of Belonging
Image by Copilot
The Ache of Belonging
In 1999, I was living and working in Norway, a country that felt both distant and strangely familiar, like a dream half-remembered. One evening, as I sat alone gazing over the stillness of the fjord, Return to Innocence by Enigma drifted from the radio, a haunting echo of something lost and timeless. The sky turned gold as the sun, a great burning sphere of silence am descended over the water.
In that moment, image and emotion became inseparable, no photograph could have captured what I felt. The melancholy wasn’t sadness exactly, but a longing, an ancient aching for something just out of reach, yet all around me.
I felt no boundary between myself and the world. I was not observing creation; I was inside it, woven into its stillness and light.