We were seen, so very briefly.

Just when I think I’m winning
When I’ve broken every door
The ghosts of my life blow wilder than before 
— David Sylvian

So many times we’ve gathered—on these grounds or elsewhere; once upon a time in a suburban bungalow, a flagpole at its door. I wonder if it’s still there, that US flag waving in the wind, welcoming new families and new strangers. Alive and breathing once again.

This one is hard.

I look around and can’t shake the impression of waters receding, of waves quietly washing us away. I’ve always struggled with Time and the brevity of these realities we call home. But something has changed. I hear laughter and conversations that all seem distant and fading. The air glimmers somehow, trapping light and sounds in amber. Ghosts and whispers, overpowering the moment.


I don’t pick up the camera as manically as I used to. I’m almost scared—as if the weight of images is all too clear now.
Because there is no slowing down
there is only the rush
and the roar
of a goddamn ocean.

Shot with the X-Pro2 and XF 35mm f1.4 R