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Hope

Love is…

There’s a story I love about John the apostle; in his nineties, and unable to walk, his disciples would carry him to church in Ephesus. He was the only one of the twelve disciples left alive and people would press him for wisdom. Every time he answered them simply; ‘Little children,’ he said, ‘love one another.’ Little children, love one another. Yesterday morning I took a walk to Keleti station, Budapest. If you’ve seen any news in the past week you’ll probably know what’s been happening there. Thousands of people fleeing war in Syria have been camped under the concourse....
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Fighting For The Furthest Heart

I’ve often wondered about war photographers. How did Robert Capa feel when he captured the image of a man dying in a Spanish battle? How does it feel to observe yet not have the power to intervene? There’s a moral tension between the duty to tell the world the story and the duty to join the struggle. Martin Luther King Jr understood this; a photographer once put down his camera and waded in to try and stop police brutality. King reprimanded him severely, because now the world would never see what had happened – all he had done was add...
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Hope

The statistics on local employment can make for grim reading; there are five times as many people looking for work as there are jobs available. It’s not the kind of headline that anyone would want written over their city, and I am keen that people challenge the idea that if you want a career you make like a duck and fly south, but there we go. That is the present state of play. The leader of the city council was quoted as saying: “People are stretched…but we have to create the perception of hope, confidence breeds success.” “People are stretched…but...
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Desires of the heart

I remember, going back a good few years, a simpler time when the desires of the heart could be spelled out in a single four letter word: Lego. To my nine year old self lego was pretty much all that was needed to make any day a hundred and twenty percent better. I remember the excuses I’d make with the parents when they stopped me playing with it on a Sunday to chat to people from church; ‘…but mum, dad, I’m not playing pirates! Why would you think that? Forget the cannons and cutlasses, I’m playing out that story about...
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