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Crossing from the personal to the political, local to global, the first Nomadology book collects a selection of writing from the last 1.5 years of the project and presents it in beautiful pocket-sized form. >> More

>> More photos
Road to Cedar Valley

San Diego, 4:50pm.
Well rested after my train peeled past Baywatch beaches on the sunset coast to San Diego. My journal: ‘I feel like I’m in a movie with too much product placement for... >> more

California Dreaming

7th October. 4:30 pm

One wanderer wore an oversized hoodie that hung low and wide over her sleight frame. I couldn’t see much of her face. Just a wild grin at the centre of a gargantuan swirl of... >> more

Library of Dust

an incredible project...

A series photographs of rotting copper cannisters set against a black background. Chemical... >> more

Consumers, Survivors and Mad-Pride: Burrito's and Bears.

October 7, 10:00am, US

I suppose I have some explaining to do...
Escaping customs minus a banana, I exited the airport into the dusty glare of mid-morning LA. Like anyone who happens to read... >> more

where to?

So the icing is caked
And where to from here?
We laid it thick
And sloppy… no serviette where I serve
Just your own chin to catch the fall out!
No sugary pink
Just whipped butter smeared off... >> more


I never expected to join the gazillions of folk who are putting their two cents on the interweb. But here goes my unceremonious leap (blip) into the 'blogosphere'...

I intended to use the space on... >> more


The ship inhales us-
like a seahorse ingesting it's young through the belly,
of a great silver bird of Saturn.

All our eyes are sore red,
from booze, from life, from crying raw,
from spring... >> more

Everything is burning

Everything is burning around us, but tonight the fire is a gentle companion to our journey. Smoke rises in soft pillows over the horizon of the hill as we light our campfire. the setting sun lights... >> more

Looking for a lost stripy sock!

In this crowded space my body retracts
skin reacts
tantalized by the slipping sweat
indicating the marks left on the shifting floor...
Subtleties meet amidst drunken glaze
brushing against... >> more

Dear Cambodia

My beloved Cambodia
Gods repeated like flowers
No two quite the same
Clinging to a trilogy of rocks
And in the silence the cash register sound
Of photographs
By foreign hands.

My beloved... >> more

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