SEPTEMBER 2024 · ROAM
Capel y Fin
Hay-on-Wye and Capel-y-Ffin, Black Mountains, Wales
I brought a 1939 Russian lens to Hay-on-Wye. It's the kind of glass that gives you imperfect edges and a particular quality of flare, and for this pair of locations — a town packed with old books and a valley with scattered ruins — the age of the lens felt like the correct decision.

Hay itself is dense. The Honesty Bookshop under a stone archway with bunting above the dark entrance passage. Dense shelves in narrow interiors, rows of second-hand volumes, the spines a specific palette of faded colour. A second-hand bookshop window display: a white duck figurine and stacked books behind a metal grille. An outdoor book market with volumes stacked in metal bins along the paved street. Books everywhere in Hay are furniture. A convex mirror reflecting the interior of one shop, surrounded by decorative shells — the mirror showing what the 1939 glass won't: a wide, undistorted view.
Both are in the business of keeping what time would otherwise work on.
Hay-on-Wye and Capel-y-Ffin — September 2024

A wooden sign for Capel Odda Dyde Farm obscured by wild overgrowth on a narrow country path. The lens reads this correctly. A rural gate beside a telephone box on a tree-lined road. A stone farm building in dense woodland, weathered slate roof, dark entrance.


Llanthony Priory in the valley: Gothic stone ruins with ribbed vaulting and an arched colonnade leading toward the hills. The vaulting and clustered columns of the ruined cloister, the hills visible through the openings. A stone arch ruin opening toward a distant mountainous landscape, the Gothic ribbed vault framing the valley beyond.

A white-washed stone chapel with steep pitched roof and wooden door. Shadow patterns from a stone archway cast across paved ground, the hillside beyond.
The bookshops hold something. The ruins hold something. Both are in the business of keeping what time would otherwise work on.












