Isle of Skye

Isle of Skye: Where the Earth Still Dreams in Stone
For three days, I wandered across the Isle of Skye - a land that feels untouched by time, sculpted by ancient forces and left to brood beneath a restless sky. Vast miles of open moorland stretched out like forgotten pages, each hill and crag whispering stories older than memory. The mountains rose rugged and defiant, primeval in their presence — as though the last of the dinosaurs had only just passed through, their shadows still caught in the mist.

It felt like stepping into the realm of myth — a landscape worthy of Tolkien’s Middle-earth, where dragons might sleep beneath basalt cliffs and elves linger in the folds of moss-covered glens. The weather shifted in true British fashion: slate-grey skies one moment, golden shafts of light the next a a moody symphony that played across the land in waves.

For a landscape photographer, it was a gift: wild, untamed, and breathtakingly real. Every turn offered a composition sculpted by wind and time, every silence deeper than solitude. Skye does not simply invite you to see — it insists that you feel, that you remember what the world was like before it was tamed.

This photo essay is my attempt to hold on to that wildness — to share a place where the earth still breathes in ancient rhythms, and where the soul can stretch out as far as the land allows.