Last night I dreamed that I was in the middle of a shoot and needed to change my lens. When I leaned down to my camera bag, I saw that the fronts of all my lenses had been smashed and there were chunks of glass scattered in my bag. I hadn't seen what caused it, it just was and I couldn't understand what had happened. Surely I would have seen or heard something or someone cause that? But no, it just was. It didn't occur to me in the dream to cancel the shoot - I realised that I was going to get some very different images from the session.

Since that awful morning our whole World was shattered, it's been impossible to look at life in the same sharp, structured way. But often sharpness and structure are quite boring and dull and uninspiring - there is beauty in depth and layers; and pain brings a perspective of what is truly important in life.

I've been loving my Holga - it's unpredictable, often blurry and multi-layered. Sometimes when you're not sure of the bigger view, it's comforting to find beauty in the abstract.

(For photographers who might be interested, these are all cross-processed slide film, straight out of camera)

Long-awaited for and eager to make her way into the world 7 weeks early, little Holly is now 10 weeks old.

Sue and Holly, thank you for igniting a bit of hope in my heart - you are simply beautiful together.

So many well-meaning people have said to us in sympathy: 'Wow, this is a very, very, VERY long road you guys are on'.

To a newly-grieving person, these words are nothing short of terrifying - a day is torturous to get through and if that's only a small segment of this very long road, then how the hell do you manage to get through the rest of the journey without losing the will to live?

But then I thought about this a little bit and realised that Simon and I know a lot about going on very, very long and bad roads after having driven back to Cape Town from London in a non-air-conditioned Landcruiser. I'm not sure if this road of grief we're on is supposed to be on foot, bicycle or a 4x4 but the last one is the one I can relate to.

So, if I think back to our trip nearly 4 years ago...

I've known Nicky since varsity days and the last time I saw her, Izzy was a slight bump in her mom's tummy. Now she is the most gorgeous little girl.