I’ve taken a fair few bus journeys over the years, but none as frequently as this one. I never tire of it.
The most ordinary of things are rendered strange by fog. Self, other, sight, direction. Landscape and memory. This Danish summer had been untypically sunny as it always is when I am there; the day before, crop fields undulated for miles in the clear air, bare and golden after the harvest. This image is part of a larger essay that I have up on Kage Collective. Check it out.
We went looking for America. 10,000 miles in three months. The collision of surfaces: past, present and future. Things converge around him. In the picture: Glacier National Park, Montana, USA.
April 2013 “Look outside!” spat a scowling Flemming, pacing in front of the heavy sliding doors while I sat up in my corner of the room, rubbing my eyes. Still foggy from sleep and the wintriness of a spring morning on the Colorado Plateau, I duly complied, and was greeted by the sight in the image above. Nada.
Come back amigo no matter where you go To the Land of Enchantment, New Mexico.[+] I came back to New Mexico for a week and a bit after my time in Texas. My third and shortest visit in nine months. It was hard to leave. It keeps getting harder to leave.