4 KM Radius
I'd return to Tokyo in a heartbeat—or Rome, Paris, Stockholm… Anywhere, to be honest. My veins ache for the rush of new injections, eyes that never close, pulse overdriven, lungs gasping, mind bent by novel paradigms.
But not yet.
Not now.
...
I've barely explored the place where we live. No, really. I've circled our home endlessly, captured our immediate surroundings, ventured a little further when a situation presented itself. But aimless wandering? Street shooting? Those times can be counted on a single hand. We don't live in Montreal, but on the outskirts—something which could be defined as “rural suburbs”, I guess? A mountain, a river, apple orchards, all within walking distance. The city, in fact, is part of our past. It exists outside. It's a place we visit, sometimes.
Last week I took a walk. I shot pictures of the things we see but rarely bother to look at because they're just there, stilled and unappealing and mundane to the point of fracture—the place where all things cease to exist.
There's no bleeding, no lights here. No raving eyes & strange men stumbling, hanging from tilting lampposts. Just quiet streets, on a quiet day
in a very quiet town.
