A captain of words and a sailor of broken hearts, this is a collection of images I love and paragraphs I’ve written. I’m fascinated with the turn of the revolution; The liberation if mankind.
I’ll never understand why people call a beach “beautiful”. It’s hot, sandy, crammed with people and honestly there’s no physical difference between a beach here, there or anywhere; regardless of what you say. Today I felt like I wasted five years of my life driving up and down the north shore and then the central coast just being told how beautiful it is. It’s like, because I’m a photographer, I’m expected to get a big camera hard on and rip it out and burn thirty frames on one of the most boring landscapes in the world. How anyone could ever want to live near the beach is beside me; the thought encodes frustration with confusion. It’s water and fucking sand.