Italians just infuse everything with beauty and passion. It’s in their food. Their buildings. Their fashion, music, art. Every vista is a postcard. Florence, Italy, 2004
Experimenting with breaking the rule of thirds. I think it works.
I am drawn to the seashore at sunset as a moth is to a flame. I could never live inland; after more than 48 hours in a landlocked city I get edgy and the nearest river or lake becomes a magnet.
When I am standing on a beach, watching the sun dip below the horizon (and never seeing the green flash!), I get a strong sense that the water before me is the same water that’s lapping on the sands at the beach down the road from my home. And it’s the same water I stood before in Fiji, California, Thailand, Tahiti and numerous other places. No matter where in the world I am, if I can be down by the shore as the sun is setting, I feel at home.
Italy. Never anything less than 'bella'.
Capri, Italy, 2002
This field of Umbrian sunflowers makes me think of fans at a music concert. I wonder who they’re there to see? Robert Plant? Tree 63? Or perhaps the Rolling Stones? 
Love the Italian word for sunflower - girasole: turn with the sun
You can almost feel the stillness.
Have you noticed how different the light is in different parts of the world? The clear but often blinding glare in the southern Mediterranean; the filtered greyness of the UK; the warmth in the light in Africa. Although more subdued than Capri’s usual bella luce, the light on this November evening set off the ripples around the island’s imposing Faraglioni perfectly. (Italy, 2003)