This is what time have given me
The images you see here are more than photographs.
They are slow stories — shaped by cliffs and winds, carved by the sea, lived by creatures who endure at the edges of our world.
Every feather, every shimmering wingbeat, every gaze across the horizon holds the quiet patience of time.
Not just months or years — but the deep, endless pulse of nature across centuries.
To photograph is to paint with light.
And light — that ancient traveller — has touched every wing, every wave, every face before reaching the lens.
It carries the memory of what was, and it will go on long after us.
What a gift, to witness this — to receive it, with open eyes.
Each canvas holds more than a scene.
It carries the dignity of a puffin standing against the wind,
the solemn grace of a fulmar cutting through mist,
the rhythm of the sea — unchanged, unhurried.
These are not simply images.They are echoes of the evolution. Of survival. Of beauty. Of belonging.
Of the truth that we are not above nature, but within it.
We are not the creators. We, too, are created — by time,
alongside everything we see.
We should be the humble the listeners, the humble learners, enjoying we are the ones who were lucky enough to see.
Time is the friend – not the vice verca
And the light is the magic.








