declarations of love

I often wonder about the outcome of these declarations of love on walls, doors, and trees. I imagine one of the two scrawling or carving away in secret, unveiling their feelings to the other, hoping for approval... Were they impressed by this act of vandalism? Did they shy away in embarrassment?

it's in the details

just a few more details

Before we return to Portugal, and make our way back to Morocco...

humble

blue hunting

It's the colour of the sky, the colour of the sea. Distant mountains. A hot flame. Forget-me-nots. A jackdaw's eye.



No other colour has that ability to swallow you whole, to wrap you up— you can't get lost in yellow or red, orange or green. Pablo and Yves knew it.



I once heard that the Ancient Greeks did not have a word for blue. Cerulean, cobalt, indigo, and oh ultramarine— beyond the sea— what beautiful words! Lapis lazuli, like some incantation, the stone that drove Titian wild.



It's the ultramarine that my palettes run out of first.

peeling blue

doors of the oudaïa

wood, iron, and stone

red, green, blue, bird

toc toc!

knock knock

mesopotamian blue