The old gods

Jason // July 9 // 0 Comments

The old gods rise from the moor bog of Tod, Bridestones, bat bothered in the blackness, peering from unseen eyes through the midlight. Prickles rise, nerves jangle and geese bump along neck and forearm. To stand amongst these giants as darkness descends is to know solitude.

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About the Author Jason

Jason follows his lifelong vocation as a countryside photographer who tries to catch the spirit of the places he visits. After decades working as a professional editorial photographer he now focuses much of his time on conceptual fine art photography, visual storytelling and in aiding others to follow their creative calling.

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