Reflections of Emptiness in the American Dream
I’ve traveled the back roads and captured the moments that speak. The landscapes have their own story. Buried in the lines and cracks, trickling down the waterways and through the skies. The story of time and the nature of being.
The ancestors spoke when I was young. They told me what was here, what was real and what was needed. They showed me the future, and whispered of the past. This land remembers. It has a voice. And it wants to be heard.
“Truth is in the land,” the voice said. Stories are written and spoken, but I needed to know. Surrendering to intuition and forsaking the known, I observed in the world around me the path I was destined to take.
Relating patterns, unfolding perceptions, traveling this naked reality in pursuit of understanding.