Travels
Are these individual and unrelated moments that I captured in my travels, this massive album of my total photographic endeavour? Or are these individual beats connected, fast-repeating strikes against the taut bullhide of time, a drumroll that is my life? Will a cymbal crescendo signal my last shot?
I am the thread, the seeing suture that stitches together the edges of these otherwise "random" images, these historical tales telling of where I have been, what my eye lit upon on that day in that place, what raised up within me a sense of love, of adoration, of admiration, of joy, of appreciative awe, so much so that I had to borrow it forever and take it with me safe inside the belly of my camera.
These photos, these images of my journey are my song, the song of myself.
And I am still singing.
