All people regularly engage with tiles. May it be in their kitchens or bathrooms, in boardgames such as Azul, or when decorating their house fronts. In the latter case, they are additionally serving the purpose of cooling down the apartments. Record holders in manufacturing the most beautiful tiles are the Portuguese and tiles assembled to true artworks may be found everywhere when strolling through large and small cities across Portugal. We photographed the most pretty tiles for your pleasure and hold a cordial competition: Two tiles (one from each person) compete with each other in every instance – which one can capture your heart? Clap for your favorite!
Bellende Hunde jede Stunde, von Sekunde zu Sekunde reist der Geist von wach zu schlaf. Zu wach: Ein lauter Krach, der Nachbar schließt laut seine Tür – ohne jegliches Gespür. Ich mach das Dach zu und lieg flach im schwülen Bus, jetzt fehlt frischer Luft-Zufluss: Fenster auf zum Kühlen. Schluss, jetzt wird tief geschlummert. Endlich leise, zeitweise. Vögel singen, paarweise, Ton-Gebilde in die Nacht. Milde Luft bringt feinen Duft von Regen rein, von wegen kein Wasser, es tropft und strömt, wir sind verwöhnt von einsamer Natur; pur, rund um die Uhr. Und in der Ferne helle Sterne, eine einzelne Laterne leuchtet mitten ins Gesicht, ihr Licht durchbricht die dunkle Nacht, unangebracht. Feine Glocken von drei Schafen, Wellen im entfernten Hafen – wir schlummern ein, so gut es geht, bevor der nächste Tag ansteht.
April 2022. We are leaving the eastern part of the Pyrenees behind us, driving South. After a day of climbing we are looking forward to taking a cold bath. We have chosen the lake ‘Llosa del Cavall’, one of the many reservoirs in Catalonia, as well as a parking space with the possibility to swim.
Of course, we have heard of forest fires in Spain. And droughts. And water shortage. Especially during the last hot summers. But the absence of water is simply not engrained in our minds. Yet. That’s why we didn’t even think about the possibility of an empty lake. Spain is currently in one of its worst droughts, endangering harvest and ecosystems alike. Most water is used for agriculture; but strangely, farmers are more concerned about possible water regulation laws than to irreversibly lose their most valuable resource as the land slowly degrades to a desert. This attitude might be coupled with their age, as it is expected that most farmers will go into retirement within the coming years, and there are no young people to replace them.
We are arrive at the reservoir – at least that’s what our navigation system says. Because the reality in front of our windscreen looks differently: No water in sight, just bare rocks. We check again if we entered everything correctly. We did, this must be the lake. But this lake is missing its very defining feature: Water.
We use water carelessly during daily life, as though it is an unlimited resource; because for most of our lives it indeed has been rather unlimited. During our ongoing trip this has changed. Water is not only scarce in Spain, but also in our camper van. While a single flushing of our toilet back home would have used 10 liters of water, we now live on around 8-10 liters a day, including everything. Of course this changes on an instant when visiting a campsite and taking a shower, but it puts things into perspective. When I read ‘The End of the Ocean’ by Maja Lunde a few years back, I didn’t particularly like it. But this seemingly dystopian story probably hit the nail on the head in describing one potential future scenario on the shortage of water in Europe. When consulting the latest IPCC report, the question is not if a future without water scarcity will come, but if we can adapt in time to cope with it adequately. But taking into account societies will to adapt to other problems of climate change, the answer seems regrettably evident.
After closer investigation we see some water after all. It’s deep below, inaccessible, and not suitable to bath in; but it’s there. At least for now, until everything will be dry in a few summers from now.
Bouldern? Witzig! Abwaschen? Nix. Im Schlafsack frieren? Nix. Zum fünften Mal dieselbe Kiste aus dem Kofferraum holen weil man jedes Mal eine Zutat vergisst? Nix! Kurvige Straßen entlang düsen? Witzig. Aprikosensaft? Witzig? Katalonier auf Englisch ansprechen? Nix! Von Waldkäuzen wachgehalten werden? Witzig. Von Hunden wachgehalten werden? Nix. Zusammen weiterhin ins Ungewisse fahren? Witzig!
Sometimes, there is the necessity for change and, sometimes, there is the desire for change. I love my city, the very city I came to ten years ago for my studies. The very city I stayed in, because of all the people I got to know and because of all the places I became attached to. A city which offers more bicycle tracks than any other city I’ve seen, a city which hosts wonderful buildings, large churches, a rich university life, and extensive nature all around. But now is the time for change.
And, thus, I am walking my oh so familiar path around the lake, one last time. I am visiting the Old Botanical garden, one last time. I am meeting people, temporary acquaintances, friends who are not familiar enough to stay in touch with, one last time. I am riding down the pedestrian zone, unlawfully, one last time. I am eating at my favorite place, I am visiting the climbing gym, I am enjoying the sun on our balcony, I am admiring the birds, the squirrels, the gray-legged geese, one last time.
We are taking a break and set forth to seek new shores, for the first time.
This year’s winter was rather typical: November is rainy and gray and one begins to wait for colder temperatures. Snow actually comes around for brief period in the beginning of December, but is then replaced by even more rain and days after days with little light. Darkness surrounds the city and its inhabitants minds. In January, one has given up the hope for a cold winter after all, and the wait for Spring begins. And while February starts off with some warm sunlight and everybody is getting ready to enjoy the first blossoms, winter grips on tightly again and doesn’t let go, even though it is the middle of March by now.
Freedom to fly and live, and thrive and try new things, drop by the roaring sea, be free below the heavens of the world, be slow and grow, relentless wind between the feathers, thoughts stirred up by elements, weather dictates sentiments, torn between the now and then – when will we feel this life again?
Small and quick,
he hauls his loot,
cuts through the light,
speeds through my sight,
lifts off, his flight
insouciant.
Light is everything in photography. It shapes the scene and provides a sense of time and place. Depending on the direction of light in relation to the camera, the same subject can change its color, form, feeling, and essence.
Punkt im Dunkeln 