Autumn in Glasgow

Reading the beginning pages of Atonement by Ian McEwan on the train to Glasgow, my eyes began to pick up smallest of details. McEwan has an extrinsic gift of bringing out the beauty of the simplest of objects, emotions and people through the meticulous alignment of words.

Upon arrival in the beautifully historic town of Glasgow, I too began to pick up the minutiae of everything around me: the silver lining of the curve of each tile on the ancient roofs, the discolouration of the decrepit brickwork, the autumnal hues of the foliage surrounding the university buildings.

The only other way to better illustrate the landscapes and architecture I saw would be through photographs. Enjoy.

PER Olsson Gisleskog +44 7949075548 Processed with VSCOcam with m5 presetProcessed with VSCOcam with m5 preset

Processed with VSCOcam with m5 preset

Processed with VSCOcam with m5 preset

The golden leaves of Autumn


If you’d like to share my photography, I would love for you to share my blog along with it too as credit! Thank you so much to everyone who has taken time to read my blog.

Just a book

‘The Book Thief’, it was called. The book that changed my life.

I love loosing myself in words. Wandering into the abyss of imagination and wonder: becoming lost, and wishing it could last eternally; wading in a sea of thought that seems to extend forever.

Just like Liesel, I found myself marvelling at the power of words.

When I finally came to the last few lines of the novel, tears spewing uncontrollably from my eyes, I read slowly, with trepidation. Why? Looking back now, I think it was because I did not want it to end. This book – these words – had given me a way to escape into a fictional dream, ignited with colours and life.

Before the very end, I experienced a flash of the scenes of people and emotion that was created with words: Liesel, who read to her neighbours in a crowded basement, Max painting the tightrope towards the sun, the stars that burned his eyes, Hans’ silver eyes and his accordion, death himself…

The paradoxical themes of innocence and destruction consumed me. Like the narrator, I questioned how beauty yet so much pain could coexist. He says,

I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race-that rarely do I ever simply estimate it. I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.

This book filled the empty shell of my imagination and curiosity. So little gave me so much.

For that reason, it is not just a book, but rather a wonderful, intricate collection of words thought through with inscrutable detail, creating a fictional dream in which you can perambulate forever; a world which allows you to stride beyond human imagination – words so powerful, they make you concede the notion of what at first you thought was not imaginable. I became part of that extrinsic imagination, and I struggle to figure out whether I’d ever like to leave.

A wavering thought

The wavering thought of whether I’ve made the right decision haunts me. However, more recently, I have found faith in the idea that all things happen for a reason. Not because of some higher power that creates fate and a predestined future for each individual (or maybe?), but because whatever we do, it is neither right or wrong; the choices we make mean something – and we should have faith in ourselves.

That is what keeps me on my feet: knowing that whatever we do, we will find happiness. I’d like to think there are no such things as mistakes, and that everything we do  acts as a reminder, lesson or something to instill confidence and righteousness.