There are few travel destinations more rose-tinted than Marrakech, with its blushing light. The pink, rammed earth walls reflect bright sunlight, adding another facet to the overwhelming sensory experience that is the medina.

If there’s a city that embodies the slow life, it’s Copenhagen. Locals pedal Christiania bicycles: cargo boxes filled with market goods, children, or a friend complete with beer and vibrating boom box. And I just love that in Copenhagen, the priorities are the same no matter how busy life gets. Good company, quality time, great lighting and iconic design. Any and every day is good for a pier-side sunset beer.

Even on an overcast day, the ocean delivers.

Greek island hopping off season. Nothing like a slow meander through the whitewashed streets, only cats for company.

There are some places that quickly leave an impression. The sea called me here, and something calls me back.

Warm locals, resilient harbour community, a friendlier medina than elsewhere: a polite no to buying wares results in sharing stories and tea instead.

Hebridean beaches are for every day, not just fair weather ones. Just as well.

Here’s to blue sky days:

Cloud spotting.

Sun on skin.

Planes scratching the sky.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been making pictures. Some of these were taken when I was 15 and remain amongst my favourites. Sometimes, you just can’t beat film.

Architectural oases and sandy sunsets in the desert.

The sheer joy of happening across juxtaposed jewel-green jardin in an otherwise subdued rose-washed city pallette.

People come for vibrant tiles and winding streets; and return time and time again for the food, architecture and proximity of city and coastal life.

In Myanmar the rule seems to be if you can drive on it, it's a road. The busy desire line along the wet sand in Ngwe Saung provided great people-watching opportunities as motorbikes and horses adorned in brightly coloured tassels and pom poms passed. We even witnessed a Speedo-clad local racing a cantering horse.

The man won.

With every hint of bias, Harris possesses the best beaches in the world. On Scotland’s extreme geographical outermost limits, we enjoy being a little harder to get to. Those who take the time and travel significant distances to experience it can’t believe the beauty to be found on the wild fringes of the Atlantic.

There’s something universal about pier jumping. Such a simple thrill and a joy to watch - it connects sea-faring communities the world over.

Much of my work to date has centred around public engagement. I love creating opportunities for people to engage in unique ways with the world around them.

As an islander, I somehow always end up spending a disproportionate amount of time hanging around harbours. In such a big, wide world there’s familiarity in fishing.

I love the entire travelling process from start to finish. It’s all part of the journey. Stuffy bus, roadside stops. Airport lounges, birds’ eye view.

Mine’s a window seat…

For its size, Athens packs a historical punch. Every stone tells a story. Modern life humbly intertwined with millennia of weighty history.

There’s a delicate art to temple scrambling. Barefoot locals in longyi softly ascend steep stairs to find a spot for morning reflection. Visitors scale pagodas in the dark to secure the best holiday snaps.

People visit temples with a clutch of intentions: locals’ morning rituals, tourists’ vista-searching, long-awaited national pilgrimage. We all have different reasons for making a journey.

I believe Glasgow was the wettest place I ever lived. And from a Hebridean girl, that’s quite something.

Literally meaning ‘big beach’ in Gaelic, Tràigh Mhòr is a mile-long white sand beach in the northeast of the Isle of Lewis.