Maybe third or fourth. Every now and again a fleeting inspiration returns me to my previous works. Reading the writing and viewing the photographs are like stumbling upon an old friend that still knows you but reflects differently on your current life. I would say that in the instance that I capture those moments and pour out the words that my eyes were fresh. Upon return, my eyes feel far from renewed and instead curious as to how these works ever emerged from my studies. They are not out of place; rather elements I am proud to call my own, but surprised to have created.
Never capable of seeing it in one sitting, I still lack the patience to review all of my photographs from my travels. And as if habit now, I’ve spent the last year; granted more - continuing to develop my eye, yet lacking in the ability to process the photograph and present them for viewing. The words fall slower now and these entries come over a day as opposed to a moment. The storm must start somewhere; I want to be there.
