The wind moves the leaves, and walls and doorways in the quiet house become the playground for a secret life.
Then the sun loses its angle of entry, the patches of sunlight disappear, and the rooms close in on themselves again.
I used the camera to search out the light and its reflections on shiny surfaces and in mirrors.
*The title of a collection of poetry by Amy Clampitt.
1 comment:
What a fabulous collection of light photos!
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