There is someone I need to mention who has nothing to do with this post. Someone put on this planet to endure. Put here to party, to explore, to make stupid moves, to fall in love from country to country. Someone put here to pool their money, sleep in the most horrid of hovel. Someone we’ve all probably been at one point in time, but age ourselves out of. The being I’m referring to is the backpacker. Maybe you are a backpacker now, or maybe you only view them at a distance. Bad haircuts, bad clothes, scurrying around places like the train station or the edges of the more respectable part of the city. Saving every penny to extend the dream.
No email. No computers. No phones. Life without a filter. A life smoked to the filter. This tribe should be respected. Power on backpacker. You are carrying the torch for the rest of us. You are the ones leaving the cave to investigate. You are the ones living with the purpose that capitalism drains from our DNA.
Yesterday was hard to explain, so I’m not even going to try. Certain things happened, others didn’t. A few images on the way from point A to point B. An opening of The Lost Rolls, which went well and was packed. Books and magazines were sold. A chance encounter with other photographers. A dinner with a friend. A walk home through the city. A search for a disposable camera. More on this later.