D Stewart PDX
Going home, the last shot
Zero 2000, Fuji Pro 800Z, irradiated
"Travel can induce such a distinct and nameless feeling of strangeness and disconnection in me that I feel insubstantial, like a puff of smoke, merely a ghost, a creepy revenant from the underworld, unobserved and watchful among real people, wandering, listening while remaining unseen."
- Paul Theroux
It is as Theroux says. Travel makes me feel insubstantial, for I am existing in places where I have no ties, no influence, no import. There is a strong feeling of unreality, especially when traveling solo. Whenever I get on a plane to go home, the suspension is acute. I don't belong anywhere, and the plane itself is no country at all. I am leaving that which has a name and briefly took me in for that which has no name and merely lets me pass.
And then I have to adjust to home. I do all the normal things from memory, but they have temporarily lost their meaning. Slowly, my soul comes home, too, and my life starts to animate once again.
This was a very precious trip. They all are, in a way. But this one especially so. The time spent with my mother in Central Europe, and the time visiting friends in Britain and Ireland, were deeply nourishing. My sincerest thanks to all who accompanied and supported me. I hope you have enjoyed these photos.
Going home, the last shot
Zero 2000, Fuji Pro 800Z, irradiated
"Travel can induce such a distinct and nameless feeling of strangeness and disconnection in me that I feel insubstantial, like a puff of smoke, merely a ghost, a creepy revenant from the underworld, unobserved and watchful among real people, wandering, listening while remaining unseen."
- Paul Theroux
It is as Theroux says. Travel makes me feel insubstantial, for I am existing in places where I have no ties, no influence, no import. There is a strong feeling of unreality, especially when traveling solo. Whenever I get on a plane to go home, the suspension is acute. I don't belong anywhere, and the plane itself is no country at all. I am leaving that which has a name and briefly took me in for that which has no name and merely lets me pass.
And then I have to adjust to home. I do all the normal things from memory, but they have temporarily lost their meaning. Slowly, my soul comes home, too, and my life starts to animate once again.
This was a very precious trip. They all are, in a way. But this one especially so. The time spent with my mother in Central Europe, and the time visiting friends in Britain and Ireland, were deeply nourishing. My sincerest thanks to all who accompanied and supported me. I hope you have enjoyed these photos.