Cathedrals and Churches

Some of the most beautiful buildings I saw in France were cathedrals and churches.  Many of them were constructed centuries ago.  The details - flying buttresses, ornately carved stone, gargoyles, stained glass, pipe organs, frescos, statues, candles - are breathtaking.

Most people are familiar with Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris.  There are many other Notre-Dame cathedrals throughout France.  I visited two during my time there.

Rouen, a city on the Seine River in Upper Normandy, is the site of Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Rouen.  While a church existed on the current site as early as the fourth century, construction on the gothic style cathedral that stands today began in the 12th century.  Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Rouen may be most notable as the subject of a number of paintings by Claude Monet, each individually estimated to be valued at tens of millions of US dollars.

Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Bayeux is in the town of Bayeux in Normandy.  It dates to the eleventh century, and was the original home of the Bayeux Tapestry.  The Bayeux Tapestry is an embroidered cloth measuring nearly 230 feet / 70 meters, chronicling the events that led to the Norman conquest of England.

Caen is a notable city in Normandy.  It has many historical buildings that were constructed during the reign of William the Conqueror, who is buried at the Abbaye-aux-Hommes in the city.  It's also noted for the World War II Battle of Caen in 1944, which destroyed most of the city and its environs.  Its Église Saint-Pierre is a modest church on which construction began in the early 13th century.  Its spire was destroyed during the Battle of Caen, but has since been rebuilt.

Église Saint-Sulpice is the second largest church in Paris, only slightly smaller than the Notre-Dame Cathedral.  Construction on the current building began in the 17th century on a site that had a structure dating to the 13th century.  Its Great Organ is noted for its wide ranging sounds and is considered one of the most beautiful in the world.  Recitals are presented Sundays.  Two large shells, given to King Francis I during the 16th century, are located near the entrance to the church and used as holy water fonts or stroups.  Église Saint-Sulpice has also appeared in popular culture, with questionable claims made in Dan Brown's The DaVinci Code.

Sainte-Chapelle in Paris dates to the 13th century.  Its stained glass is stunning, regarded as one of the most extensive collections of in-situ stained glass in the world.

The images I've posted only provide a glimpse of the awe-inspiring beauty of these structures.

A woman gazing at Saint Peter at Église Saint-Sulpice in Paris.

Revisiting D Day

A few months ago, I reflected on my visit to D Day sites in Normandy, imagining what had happened decades ago.  On this, the 70th anniversary of the invasion, I thought it important to acknowledge the occasion and perhaps post a few more images.

The acknowledgment is important.  It's impossible to envision what our world would be today had those events not occurred.  When thinking about the sites I saw and visited in Normandy, I am immediately taken to imagining what it was like for those involved, including my uncle and father-in-law, seventy years ago.  My initial D Day post includes those reflections.

Deciding to post more images was a bit difficult.  The day we toured D Day sites, I struggled to make images.  My camera and I didn't bond very well.  Many things were out of focus.  Exposures were way off.  I wasn't composing things well.  I ended up with a set of images that didn't really convey the experience I was having.  I didn't feel as though I was capturing the stories the sites were telling.

The balance was tipped by the many images presented in the press over the past few days, reinforcing the significance of the events.  Seeing the beautiful, pastoral landscape of Normandy today creates a stark contrast to the events seventy years ago.  So, despite my photographic issues that day, I decided to share a few more images that attempt to convey the serenity that exists today - even when interrupted by remnants of the war - and certainly existed before wartime activities began.

A gun turret at the German installation at Longues-sur-Mer is a clear reminder of the battles seventy years ago, punctuating the beautiful, serene landscape of the Normandy region of France.

Along the Street

Until I participated in the photography workshops in France led by Valérie Jardin, I had never intentionally made images of strangers.  Valérie encouraged us to experiment, challenging us to make portraits, find a place with an interesting background then make images of people moving through it, and remain aware of our surroundings to capture unique moments.

It was quite demanding for me.  In my efforts to remain unobtrusive, I was often reluctant to raise my camera soon enough to capture the scene.  I also found that I was just snapping images of people without much thought behind the image I had just made.  I hadn't fully considered what it was I believed was interesting or provocative, so I ended up with a bunch of really boring images that made me ask myself what I was thinking when I made them.  Like much of learning, it was a bit unsettling, but ultimately a good experience.  Pictures tell stories, especially those of people.  My early attempts were snapshots, quickly made images without much thought about whether or not there was potential to create a story.  I needed to decide if I would continue my endeavor to learn more about street photography, or just chalk it up as something in which I wasn't really interested.  I concluded I liked the challenge, so struggled on to determine if I was actually able to make images that were more than snapshots.

Many of the images I made were photographed candidly, without the subject having knowledge an image was being made.  In some cases, subjects happened to look directly at my camera as I was pressing the shutter.  The subject obviously knew an image was being made, but in no case gave any indication of displeasure or being upset by it.  Having experiences like that helped my confidence, causing me to be less concerned about being unobtrusive - something that's pretty difficult with a digital SLR camera in front of my face!

As I made more images, I became more and more conscious of imagining stories related to the images.  Undoubtedly, my stories were very different than the actual story behind the image.  But the process of creating a story for what I saw in the frame kept me challenged, engaged, and looking forward to making more images.

An early evening was a perfect time for two men to engage in conversation as they walked through the city.

Orchids

I can always remember being drawn to orchids.  When I began making photographs, the beauty of the flower made them obvious subjects to me.  My first images of orchids were made with a film camera on a vacation to Hawaii.  At the time, I thought the images were pretty good, enough so I had some hanging in my office for a number of years.  But now, when I look back at them, I don't think I represented the beauty of the flower very well.  I'm happy I had opportunities to find places growing orchids so I could continue to learn.

I was fortunate to relocate to a place near Longwood Gardens, a spectacular display garden in Kennett Square, Pennsylvania.  In its orchid house, Longwood presents virtually all cultivars in bloom throughout the year.  Additionally, each year during the typically dreary winter months of January through March, it presents its "Orchid Extravaganza".  The conservatory is filled with stunning displays of orchids, with abundant opportunities to make images.

I am drawn to the simple elegance of the orchid.  This image was made with film many years ago.

Notre Dame de Paris

When I thought of sharing images of places of worship I visited while in France, it seemed most appropriate to begin with Notre Dame in Paris.  It is not only a beautiful cathedral, but also the venue for interesting fictional characters.  Perhaps most famous is Victor Hugo's Quasimodo, the cathedral's bell ringer known as the Hunchback of Notre Dame.  It's a destination for about thirteen million visitors per year, with as many as fifty thousand on peak days.  Despite the number of visitors, it's a very active cathedral with several masses celebrated each day.

Construction of Notre Dame began in 1163, making the year 2013 the 850th anniversary of the cathedral.  A large grandstand was installed on the plaza near the main entrance, adding a challenging dimension to photographing the building.  There's a lot of activity within the cathedral, but areas for worship and repose tend to be respected by visitors.  It's possible to climb the four hundred eleven steps to the bell tower, something that is reported to offer spectacular views of the city.  Regrettably, our attempts were unsuccessful, as it was closed each of the several times we visited.  I look forward to returning some day to take it in.

Using a reflection was one way to view the front facade of Notre Dame in Paris.

Doors

One of the areas I'm exploring is making images of common things, but I really hesitated when I considered making images of doors.  Doors are ubiquitous.  Over the years, I've seen many, many presentations of images doors.  My Google search of "photographs of doors" returned over thirty million results, including plenty of images.  I felt as though making images of doors would be trite.  When walking in the villages and cities in Normandy, as well as in Paris, I suppressed my hesitation when I saw such richness in the common door.

Doors clearly define a boundary between what is desired to be private and protected from general passage.  The message conveyed by an open door varies depending on the degree of openness.  A fully open door conveys a welcoming message and usually engages most of my senses.  I can see what is on the other side, hear the sounds or experience the silence, feel the breeze, take in the scents.  A door that is slightly open may engage my senses, but causes me to be cautious in a way I would be before diving into a lake.

Even though doors present boundaries, they melt away when imagining stories instead of barriers.  Imagine the story of the person who chose to hang lace curtains on the door, but chose lace with a pattern of an ocean floor and dolphins rather than a traditional pattern!  Doors with ornate hardware or painted in striking colors tell stories of craftspeople and owners desiring something more than basic function.  Modern locking systems on old doors reinforce the purpose of privacy and protection, and tell a story of how our world has changed.  I hope I'm able to see beyond the commonality of doors and things like them and create images that tell interesting stories.

An old, weathered door at the Mont Saint-Michel Abbey.

Cafés and Dining

When people walk to get from place to place, it's usually relatively easy to find a spot to get a beverage or some food, then relax for a while.  Cafés often have seating situated with a view of the street.  Parks have chairs, benches, and tables available for visitors.  Individuals slow their pace and pause to sit in contemplative reflection, watch people, read, engage with companions.  It's a good reminder for me.

Enjoying a coffee at Île Saint-Louis in Paris.

Mont St-Michel

When I visit places that were built thousands of years ago, my thoughts always jump to imagining the effort it took to create the places.  My visit to Mont St-Michel created a flood of such imaginings.  The granite outcropping of Mont Tombe, its original name, was a strategic stronghold as far back as the sixth century.  It's in a tidal plain on the northwest coast of France connecting to the English Channel.  A sanctuary honoring the Archangel was built in the eighth century, then later an abbey with construction beginning in the eleventh century.  A village grew below the abbey and reached the base within a few hundred years.  By the late eighteenth century, few monks were in residence.  The abbey was closed and the Mont converted to a prison, remaining so for nearly one hundred years.  It was declared a national historic monument by France in 1874, and was listed as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1979.  The abbey eventually reopened and operates today.

The site is spectacular, with breathtaking views all around.  Rising to about three hundred feet (ninety-two meters) at its highest point, moving from place to place requires nearly constant ascending and descending stairs.  A statue of Saint Michael, wielding a sword and a scale, tops the spire.  Mont Tombelaine, another granite outcropping to the north of Mont St-Michel, is a destination for visitors during low tide.  The cloister itself is beautiful and serves as another location for breathtaking views.  Looking across the tidal plain from above, Mont St-Michel presents itself as a silhouette.

Tens of thousands of people visit Mont St-Michel each year, but with a limited number of hotel rooms, most visit only during the day.  I was thrilled to have the opportunity to stay overnight on the island.  The quiet darkness created a feeling of serenity.  Then, awakening before dawn to catch the early light on the Mont and the sunrise extended the feeling.  As visitors arrive, the mood shifts to more energy as people move about.  The village offers shopping and dining, including the famous omelettes at La Mère Poulard, a restaurant dating back to the late 1800's.  It was a wonderful visit.  I look forward to returning some day.

When approaching Mont St-Michel, the view is stunning.

Bicycles

I love the simplicity of bicycles.  I first began riding a bicycle when I was four years old.  It was a twenty-six inch (sixty-six centimeters) girl's bicycle, huge compared to me at the time but something I could grow into, and I did.  I had the bicycle until I graduated years later to a shiny new three-speed!  I loved jumping on the bicycle and pedaling to move faster than I ever imagined I could.  At that time, it probably wasn't very fast, but it solidified the enjoyment I have for bicycling that exists to this day.

I've known for a long time that the use of bicycles in the U.S. is nothing like it is in other parts of the world.  That fact is emphatically reinforced when traveling outside the U.S.  Not only do people use their own bicycles for transportation, but bicycles are readily available to rent.  People transport children in seats for children on bicycles.  Places to park and lock bicycles are available.  Rental locations typically look fairly orderly.  Areas for parking personal bicycles are sometimes orderly.  Bicyclists appear to be respected on the streets.  It would be great if it evolved here in the U.S.

A woman in Paris travels on a rented bicycle.

Portraits

Over the years, I convinced myself making pictures of people was difficult.  That led me to make photographs of things - landscapes, scenes, flowers, anything as long as there wasn't a person in the frame.  I put my conviction to the test with the street photography workshops, which concentrated on making photographs of people.  We were challenged to make not only anonymous photographs, but also to interact with subjects to make portraits.

I found the process really interesting.  I'm not one of those chatty people who talks to strangers about absolutely everything, but I don't hesitate to interact with others and engage in conversation.  Despite that, the whole idea of having an interaction then asking the person if I may make a photograph of him or her seemed like an intrusive extension of the interaction.  I was very tentative at first, so the first several portraits were terrible.  But they were portraits, and no person I asked declined.  As time went on and I asked more and more people, no one declined, and the portraits began to improve a little.  Some even embraced it, not only smiling widely,  but also posing and gesturing!  So, within a few short days, I totally disproved my assumption about being intrusive.  I was surprised and delighted.  It was especially rewarding when I showed the subject the photograph and got a positive reaction.  One woman saw her photograph, smiled widely again and said, "Je suis très jolie!!!" ("I am very pretty!!!").

As I have reflected on the experience, it surprises me less and less.  If I imagined myself as the person approached by a stranger with a camera and asked if s/he could make a photograph of me, my first reaction would be, "Why me?"  Perhaps the individual would explain, but even if not, I'd probably then ask myself, "Why not?" and allow him or her to make the photograph.

The thing I came to love about making portraits of strangers is that each portrait has a story associated with it - a time, a place, and a set of activities that creates a special uniqueness in each portrait beyond the image of the person.  I've always connected with the storytelling dimension of photography, whether capturing something of beauty, documenting an important event, or recording things I want to remember.  I hadn't made the connection of the storytelling possibilities in portraits of strangers until I actually made portraits of strangers.  Every one has its own story.  What a way to create memories!

A man tidying his shop in Bayeux, France, was a great subject for an early morning portrait.

Remembering

The Normandy region in northern France on the English Channel has been inhabited for thousands of years.  It's a region with industry, agriculture - producing cider and calvados, horse breeding, and fishing.  Despite all that, I'd venture a guess that the region is best known as the site of the D Day landings on its beaches and the Battle of Normandy, a significant turning point during World War II.  Visiting the beaches, villages, other locales, and the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial is moving and often astonishing.  Having family members who were soldiers in the invasion that began June 6, 1944 makes the connection even more meaningful.

We toured D Day sites one day during the photography workshop I attended in Normandy.  Other than what I learned in my high school history classes, I didn't know a lot about the Battle of Normandy or much else about the World War II battles in Europe.  My only other points of reference were people.  My uncle and father-in-law were in their early 20's when they traveled to Normandy.  I didn't speak with either of them about it, and know from others that they didn't really like talking about their experiences.

 As we toured the sites, I continually tried to imagine the experiences they might have had.  I found it astonishing that although most landing sites were beaches, the beaches themselves are fairly confined.  They are definitely beaches - expanses of sand adjacent to bodies of water.  But rather than receding gently to coastal plains, the beaches end abruptly and rise as rocky edifices, topped by the plains of Normandy.  Landing sites were protected by mulberry harbors - temporary harbors made with floating steel breakwaters and concrete caissons - built on Omaha Beach (U. S. landing location) and Gold Beach (British landing location).  The breakwater at Omaha Beach was destroyed in a storm later in 1944, however much of the breakwater still exists and is visible at Gold Beach.

I also wondered where their deployment may have taken them once they landed.  Germany occupied villages and sites along the coastline.  At German-occupied Longues-sur-Mer, three of the four casements with their 152-mm guns, as well as shelters still exist.  Our visit to Longues-sur-Mer was pastoral early in the morning, making it difficult to imagine it as a battlefield.  At Pointe du Hoc, also a German-occupied site and the highest point on the coast between Utah Beach and Omaha Beach, several other casements, gun pits, and shelters are accessible.  Did either of them pass through the places we visited?

Port-en-Bessin-Huppain is a picturesque fishing village located between Gold Beach and Omaha Beach.  The site was captured by the British during the June 6-7 battles, linking Gold and Omaha Beaches.  I had difficulty imagining it as a battle site, as well.

I was impacted most significantly by the visit to the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial.  Granted a perpetual concession by France, the land for the cemetery is a U. S. territory, operated by the U. S. government.  Our visit was a bad news / good news story.  Because of the government shutdown in the fall of 2013, the cemetery was closed to visitors.  I was outraged at our government when passing by the main entrance and seeing people, who appeared to be of the age to have been alive during World War II, walk away from the closed gate.  Our experience was a little different.  With our French tour guides, we walked west on Omaha Beach to a point at which one provided valuable information.  She told us there was an entrance to the cemetery on the other side of a sand dune.  She and the other guide would not be able to accompany us, but she said if we happened to disappear for a period of time, there would be nothing that they could do.  We left our guides, walked over the dune to the closed beach entrance, and hiked up a trail to another closed entrance and a wall about four feet / just over one meter.  We were able to climb the wall and explore the cemetery, the only visitors when we arrived.  We expected to be asked to leave, but stayed for a time without encountering guards.  It was very still, mostly silent, and tremendously moving.  My gratitude to the French guides is great, as it was an experience I would have regretted missing.

The Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial was closed to the public during our visit due to the U. S. government shutdown.

Young People

I had primarily concentrated on landscapes when I was shooting film.  I didn't feel comfortable making images of strangers, and even felt awkward doing so with family and friends other than rare simple snapshots.  When I decided I wanted to more seriously pursue photography, I tried to determine why I was so uncomfortable making images of people.  I'm comfortable talking with people I don't know, I obviously know and have relationships with family and friends, so there clearly was something else at work.  I wanted to determine what it was so I could either accept that I prefer not photographing people, or get past it.  It was a goal when I decided to enroll in photography workshops.  Valérie Jardin is an accomplished photographer and has a special affinity for street photography and photographing people.  I felt certain that working with her in her workshops, I would get to the root of my discomfort making images of people.

I learned a lot from my first attempts.  That's the euphemistic way of saying my first attempts were generally pretty bad.  I wasn't in good positions to capture individuals' faces.  I missed opportunities for interesting gestures, expressions, or movement as I attempted to be unobtrusive.  I didn't want to seem like a paparazzo, so used a short lens.  That, however, required me to get fairly close to the person whose image I wanted to make.  I couldn't be unobtrusive.

There were some positive elements of my learning.  When I talked with people, in most cases the person was happy, and even honored that I wanted to make a picture of her or him.  And those that preferred that I not do so let me know.  When I hadn't talked with the person and made an image, if he or she realized it afterwards, usually a smile, nod, or some other indicator of acceptance would come my way.

Other things happened that helped.  While walking through the streets in Bayeux, France, I encountered a group of students on a school excursion.  One young woman extended an invitation, making eye contact and gesturing the peace / friendship sign.  I accepted the invitation and by raising my camera and making images of the students.  Some, like the first young woman, engaged me directly.  Others would make eye contact, resume interacting with other students, but still look my way.  Others would make quick glances my way, but never look long enough to be captured as a main subject of the scene.  There was one young man who moved wherever I pointed my camera, but always looked away.  I captured a few good images and many that weren't so good.  Most importantly, I had a blast during those five or ten minutes with the Bayeux students.  My discomfort was abating.

I continued practicing making images of people during the weeks in France, and have done so since returning.  I decided to focus on those of young people for this collection, in honor of and with thanks to the young woman in Bayeux.

A young woman's peace / friendship gesture in Bayeux, France, invited me to keep my camera raised and make images of the students in the group.

Winter

This has been an epic winter in the area in which I live, with more snowfall since record keeping began in the 1880's.  The typical pattern is a few inches of snow, followed by temperatures above freezing, eliminating the snow.  That has not been the case this year.  The current snow cover has been in place for many weeks, augmented a few days ago with an event that piled on another 18 inches / 46 centimeters!  It feels like I'm in the US Midwest, where I grew up!  So, although I had another set of images queued for the site, I decided to defer to the season and post some winter images.

The typical weather here pattern doesn't present a lot of opportunities to photograph snow.  It's often a small amount and / or very wet and sloppy.  I had spent virtually no time trying to photograph snow, and know a large amount of white in a scene is very challenging to capture.  I set out to experiment and see what happened.

A beautiful copper beech tree (Fagus sylvatica) laden with snow.

Details

Every journey I’ve taken has presented me with something I’ve never experienced - food, architecture, scenery, local styles.  With repeat journeys, like those to visit family or places I’ve been before, new experiences come from things like learning that someone I’ve known a long time has a new skill or is doing something totally unexpected, or discovering a place or scene I hadn’t seen in the past.

When I think of my photographic journey, my expectation is essentially the same.  I want to pursue new subjects and see things that may have always been there but may not have previously presented themselves.  I hope doing so will provide benefit to me.  Is that path of the journey one I want to continue following, or is it one that I appreciate but find less interesting?

One of the things I tried to do as I wandered around France was to pay attention to the details surrounding me.  Simply doing so presented interesting shapes, colors, textures, and scenes I likely would have missed at a different point.

Architectural details were easy to find at Mont St-Michel, France.  I really like the rusted keyhole.  I only wish I had concentrated a bit more to ensure the prominent parts of the subject were all in clear focus, highlighting the dimension of learning along the way.

Seizing Opportunities

It's only been recently that I've taken my camera with me when going places.  Over the years, I asked myself why I wasn't doing so if I believed I liked making pictures.  I guess I wasn't that committed, didn't think I had enough time, or some other excuse.  It disappoints me now, as I missed the enjoyment I get looking around me and trying to compose images, even when they don't turn out very well.

So I'm trying to change that.  I took the opportunity recently when we were visited by some family members who wanted to go to Atlantic City.  Even though it's only a couple hours from where we live, I'd never been there.  The morning I had time to shoot, it was cold, the sky was mostly clear and the sun bright - not too great for making photographs.  I didn't have a lot of time, so concentrated on just part of the expansive boardwalk and beach.  There weren't a lot of people out and about, and most places were closed.  And, despite the bright sun of the day, it felt kind of dreary.  My aim was to try to capture that mood.

Although I occasionally shot black and white during film days, I hadn't done much in the digital world.  For a long time, the only processing software I knew of was Photoshop Elements, then a few years ago, Lightroom.  With each, I hadn't spent time to learn much about the software.  For the workshops in France, that needed to change.  One of the reasons I selected Valérie Jardin's workshops was the interesting perspectives she presents through her images, most often in black and white.  I began to learn how to see a scene without color.  And I expanded my rudimentary knowledge of Lightroom to process images, especially in black and white.  With the dreariness I felt that day, black and white seemed like the right choice for the Atlantic City images.

The Steel Pier dates to 1898, having been rebuilt many times.  There are current plans for another transformation, advertised on an overpass adjacent to the pier.

Resuming the Journey

As I was growing up, photography was very special, typically occurring during celebrations of birthdays and holidays.  Other occasions, like building a fort around a tree in the yard or playing a game with siblings and neighbor kids, were also made special when one of my parents emerged from the house with a camera.  It was magical to me.  A simple click using a block-like device began the anticipation of what we would see later on paper, a part of the celebration stopped in time.  Whatever I felt when the image was captured was rekindled each time we viewed a new package of photographs.  I was lucky to get to play on my parents' Kodak Instamatic - another block-like device, flash cube, and all - and experienced the magic real time when my father had a Polaroid or two.  It was the beginning of my journey.

The journey continued, but slowly when I received my first SLR - a Pentax 35mm film camera.  I was an itinerant photographer, distracted by demands of school, working, and life in general.  Nonetheless, I never lost my love of the magic of capturing moments.  Landscapes, gardens, and scenes during vacation travel were my main subjects.

When I decided to retire from the corporate world, I could bring more concentration to creating that magic.  The photography world had changed from film to digital - real time magic, like Polaroids, again.  And although I had moved to the digital world, I hadn't spent much time really learning what I needed to know to make good images.  Digital cameras had so many more options than my old film cameras.  And now, the darkroom was on my computer rather than in a distant lab that processed my images.  I decided to try to determine if the love I'd been professing to myself was real by enrolling in photography workshops.  Those offered by Valérie Jardin met my objectives - long enough to immerse myself in making images, stretching my eye and courage in the area of street photography, and traveling through France in Normandy and Paris.

I confirmed my love of making images through the workshops.  I also confirmed I have a long way to go if I want to be good at it.  I was surrounded by extremely talented individuals who typically saw things differently than I and made amazing images.  My rudimentary knowledge of how my camera operates got in my way more than I wished it had.  I wasn't real intentional about what I was shooting, so ended up with many, many more images than I needed.  I learned a lot and confirmed I have a whole lot more to learn.  I gained a level of confidence about making images that led me to create this site.  I want a place to not only share my images, but to document my photographic journey.

The first workshop in Normandy was pivotal for me, so I've chosen to begin my documentation there.  Honfleur, France, is a beautiful port village dating to the 11th century on the southern bank of the estuary of the Seine River.  We spent time around the harbor, toured the streets of the village, and took in the sights of the local market.  What a beautiful place to begin!

A snapshot of Hotel du Cheval Blanc, Honfleur, France, the "ceremonial" starting point of the continuation of my journey.

Building the site...

Thanks for your patience as I build my new site!