Here’s to the people whom I keep finding in front of my lens these days. Each SD card, gone over at the end of an evening, seems to weave its own narrative, to tell brand new stories about these people whom I love. This strange little band of us, who have washed ashore here, in the midst of our own great Odysseys and strange wanderings, we have found each other, curled up together around our own little circle of fire, a bonfire on the shore. Maybe this is not Hell after all, as I had once suspected. Or in the event that it is, at least the company is fine. Here, then, are just two days in the eye of this lens.
In the immortal words of Theater of Sheep, “These are my friends. Don’t fuck with them.”