Look around you—there are people around you. Maybe you will remember one of them all your life and later eat your heart out because you didn’t make use of the opportunity to ask him questions. And the less you talk, the more you’ll hear. Thin strands of human lives stretch from island to island of the Archipelago. They intertwine, touch one another for one night only in just such a clickety-clacking half-dark car as this and separate once and for all. Put your ear to their quiet humming and the steady clickety-clack beneath the car. After all, it is the spinning wheel of life that is clicking and clacking away there.
And I’m slowly acclimatising to being back in the UK. It’s a little challenging, how quickly memory fades and the now replaces what was before. I’m slowly crawling through photos, sifting through the pictures I want to post, separating them from the things that might be important to no one other than myself. I had a lot of fun with the Sony by the end of the trip, and I developed a real taste for black and white images, high contrast (all in processing rendered in-camera). There’s something attractive about the simplicity of monotone, the way I was shooting with a focus on geometry and contrast. And as I look at the stream of images that now sit on my hard drive, I’m thinking of all the other images I didn’t take, the ones that would have existed in the moments between those that I captured. And I’m keen to explore the images I haven’t captured yet. To travel again, soon, and document everything I see.