I recently had a long layover in Seoul and took the train into the city to wander for the day. With twelve hours, I did what I love most: explored a new city on my own, wandered down alleyways, hunted for street art, and got lost.
As you weave through the traffic of Hanoi, you become one with it.
I remember then feeling I had to rise against it, that Hanoi was something to be conquered. Maybe I wasn’t in the right place; maybe it wasn’t the right time. You never really know with cities. They’re like people, and you don’t always hit it off.
August was a busy month — weddings, time with family and friends, and exploring cities we’ve never been.
Somehow, I’ve entered a special dimension — that space only accessible in these sorts of moments — where time truly reveals itself. Where time is more than the past, present, and future; and more than here and there and the line that connects them.
I present to you my past month’s adventures in England and Scotland, via iPhone 4. With the exception of a handful of shots, most of these are Instagrammed.
Yes, I write about not knowing where or what home is.
That something is missing, that here isn’t quite right.
Then I walk around. I explore where I live.
And I’m reminded that things, truly, are fine.
I’ve been in Istanbul for a week and have mainly used my new iPhone to take photographs. I was a (mostly disgruntled) BlackBerry user for three years until I got an iPhone over the holidays, so I’m very late to the iPhone party. And very new to Instagram, too. So, I decided to test out my iPhone camera and fiddle with filters (noted in parentheses).
The simplest description of the Neon Boneyard? It’s where Sin City’s signs go to die.
Because all at once? It’s a sensory overload. But, honestly, I don’t think Egypt is a place where all pieces fit perfectly.