I wasn't even looking especially today. I'd cycled to a nearby small town to get hold of some supplies that I didn't seem to be able to get where I was. The journey took some 30-40 minutes, so there was ample time to witness what was happening around me, but I'd almost resolved not to get too caught up in it. So initially I avoided paying too much attention. I had a purpose, and that was all I was concerned with. Naturally though, I couldn't help becoming aware of things, and finally succumbed on the way home to stopping and making a few images.

The rain and the heavy clouds gave the place an altogether different appearance to what I had seen so far. My thoughts turned to black and white here. Usually I'd dismiss this approach as artificial and introducing an unnecessary distance, but here it seemed apt, perhaps because the day was so colourless itself.

Whether these images were anything other than picturesque, was a constant worry. Well, I say a "constant" worry, but remember I wasn't trying very hard today, so any thoughts of this nature were intermittent at most. Mainly at this point I'd cycle a short distance, be compelled to stop and try to record what I saw, get back on my bike, cycle a bit further, stop again, photograph the view again, and so on. Some sort of connection must have been occurring; you'd imagine that my main concern at this point would be to simply get home (I was by now soaked right through), but the landscape was shouting at me somehow. Ordering me to pay attention.

The sense of a two-way conversation was quite strong here, is what I now think, and may have felt at the time.