It’s nearly been a whole year since I wrote a last blog post. How irrefutably lazy.

First day at uni, I remembered being entranced by the number of interesting bodies and faces that floated above and gave character to old Yorkshire streets. — First day at uni

My first year of university was unbelievable. Initially saturated and soaked in debauchery and wrung dry of invested time in studying, as are most first year experiences, I feel that I progressed and conquered the plights of infected kitchen conditions and awful student club nights to find real definitive contentment in my position and course. I met many people on similar wavelengths to me, not only on my course but among other university circles and in the city. My choice to study languages at Leeds is one of the most fantastic I have made; I am now so grateful for my knowledge in both languages and the underestimated license and liberty of student life. Additionally, I found my advancing ability in Arabic very handy in Leeds itself, due to an expansive Muslim/Middle-Eastern population. “Assalaamu alaikum” never fails to plaster unforgettable grins and evoke bursts of energy from native speakers.

After a few months of socialising and observing the Islamic and Arabic influence not only at the University but in Leeds, I began to photograph areas of the city (Mainly in Harehills) where predominantly Muslim communities live, with an aim of collating a collection of pictures about the Northern English/Arabic identity. I encountered many Muslims and Arabic people with very thick North Yorkshire accents, of course because they had been born in the local area, but I also met some converts who had been touched in some way or another by the Islamic teaching and values. Here are just a few snaps that came from the inkling of an idea.

Harehills is quite a deprived area, caressed by trails of litter and grime, it’s alley-like streets point on an incline up to the Mosque where elegant minarets cut into the moody Yorkshire skyline.

I spent days wandering the main roads and floating in and out of off-licenses, halal butchers and Arabic supermarkets.

When I return I would really like to put a real project together, and invest a long time into getting familiar with specific people.

Socially and photographically, things were starting to get really interesting in Leeds and the place began feeling more like somewhere that I felt was intended for me.

Until those headlines began to descend upon us. A Chinese disease that was fledged through the student bubble as being serious, yet containable within its country of origin, quickly became the only thing passing people’s lips. Admittedly, I continued to assume that this virus from Wuhan was something that would ride itself into the ground elsewhere across the world. Nevertheless, the tides of time and exponential infection rates proved me very wrong and have washed this problematic possibility of getting quite ill up onto all of our doorsteps.

These last few months have proved to be a period where headlines and top news stories have become direct influences in my immediate life. I think it is the first time that a globally relevant piece of news has done this to me. The virus morphed from an intangible and abstract concept, as are many allegories of war, contempt and racism in the media, into a real danger. Now, occurrences on the other side of the world no longer remain comfortably encapsulated by the neat rectangle through which we perpetually scroll, at which we ungraciously gawp and to whose doldrum beat we drearily dance our hurried jigs. To observe something that has been claiming lives in hospitals across the world turn into a nefarious, airborne presence that has pumped genuine panic into the veins and eyes of someone as I accidentally invaded the two-metre personal perimeter in a supermarket aisle, is something I will never forget. I will also not forget the chronic monotony of lockdown. For a few weeks, binge watching Tiger King and making falafels were the height of thrills.

Although I live among the seldom-crowded voluptuous green bosoms of Sussex flora and farmland, sequestering beautiful pastoral scenes, undisturbed fauna and sweet isolated groves, I can’t help but notice and gaze gratefully upon the remarkable societal re-surfacing among the few I am surrounded by. By this I mean our relationships with one another as co-existing members of the world have been refreshed. The usual moderate alienation exhibited between English neighbours has dissipated, and a difficult time has drawn us closer. I think this time has shown how much we all need each other. Peremptory pressures and crucial engagements have finally quietened down in urgency, making life hushed enough so we can hear the ticking of our internal clocks and leaving enough time to learn how to understand what keeps us healthy and satisfied.

Upon the cancellation of my lectures and seminars at uni, I canvassed myself to decide what was the best option: a warm bed and free food or empty hospital vibes and dripping damp on the walls of my halls bedroom. Obviously I returned, and I’ve very much enjoyed being home. The forest near my house has assuaged and soothed my bouts of over-pondering on numerous occasions and the reconnection with my family has been well needed.

I must say that apart from one family friend whose life has been touched by the virus, albeit ephemerally, those who I hold dear have remained in good health and isolated safety. To whoever is reading this, I hope your loves are also safe and well.

Although this universal force majeure has blown plans and routine asunder, this hiatus from normal life has allowed a long period of reflection. I myself find I go week to week and hour to hour through determined flashes of sedulous focus, which then dissipate into coming up with worryingly effective methods of procrastination. Ultimately, the only thing that matters is that we fill our day with exactly what we want to do. I have now realised that there need be no pressure in life and attempting a sustained positivity makes my day much brighter.

Please find here some snaps from a few walks around my home and in Brighton.

This muslim woman was so distractingly meditative. As families and dog-walkers flurried past her, she remained still and quelled the wind and normally tumultuous Brighton waves with a pensive stare. — This muslim woman was so distractingly meditative. As families and dog-walkers flurried past her, she remained still and quelled the wind with her stare.

Micky, a council worker and Brighton and Hove Albion fan toils on the beach in the morning hours, spraying a 2 meter distance warning every few hundred yards. Between each sign were a number of trailing yellow boot-prints from where he had accidenta… — Micky, a council worker and Brighton and Hove Albion fan toils on the beach in the morning hours, spraying a 2 meter distance warning every few hundred yards.

My Grandma and her neighbour drink tea and chat over the wall separating their houses

These portraits are of Bob and his tattoos, which he accumulated during his Army service in Hong Kong, Palestine and Germany. I encountered him on VE day as he was waiting on Brighton seafront for the spitfire flyover, just as I was. Unfortunately the plane had flown parallel to the beach but several miles from the actual coastline. I was barely able to see it, and so I wasn’t surprised when Bob hadn’t spotted it.