The lockdown means I cannot go to my favourite places to take reflection photos: the low countries, la Défense, etc.. Indeed, I’m stuck in the town where I live, Esch-sur-Alzette, in Luxembourg’s deep south.
I was bought up in an English village, and have fond memories of wandering the woods there. So I’ve done the English thing, I’ve gone pastoral: I’m photographing the woods here.
More than half the town is the Escher bëscher, the Esch woodlands. It’s actually rewilded industrial redlands: Esch was, and still is, iron country. Steel made Luxembourg rich, and Esch was at the heart of that. Now, though, the foundries has mostly gone: the mines and the great halls of production have been replaced by woodland, birdsong, lovers, and mountain bikers. All the same, perhaps, among these young trees, I’ve caught more memories than my own.
Originally posted on self–quarantine lines.
