When I was a child, I was first introduced to the camera, and photography. Rummaging through countless albums in my family room, one would find that this is indeed true, as there are prints of both me, as well as those taken by me (which were horrible at 6 years old). Digital had yet to become the force it is today, and I, as a young boy, had to learn the basics by using a film camera. Fast forward nearly two decades, a rapidly shifting eye for feelings, and a random $35 purchase of a Canon Rebel G from the thrift store (shoutout to PTA Thrift in Carrboro), and we arrive at this post. These images were captured on film, and as I go throughout the year, I will continue to post more as they develop (HA! well, because it’s film…and film, develops.)

Excerpt from 10/25

“…on an Airplane”

The last day of a trip is always the most challenging for the wanderer. Morning breaks, and the first sight of the sun is the signal for the curtain call; goodbye will be here, at some point, in the next twenty-four hours. Maybe it will be expressed from the lips of friends (both old and new), maybe it will well from the exhaust of taxis (that do not reside in your home town), or maybe it will erupt from within as you say farewell to freedom. On a trip, one becomes a stranger, and with that, experiences liberty. However, as soon as the scent of the secured airport, or four-AM coffee is smelled, this freedom becomes but a fragment of our imagination. What if, though, there was a way to retain that sense of infinity? Even in the content cycle of daily life? To exist as both a stranger, and a familiar being, what would such a dichotomy do to the soul?