What would it be like to be lost at sea? Afloat, lying on your back, after your arms and legs have given out. The tide acting as a restless but gentle guide on your rather unfortunate voyage across the deep blue. Your entire world. There. Drifting. 

What a time to be alive, and kicking, kicking ass. April started off with sitting on the beaches near the Great Ocean Road (Photoverses: I sat by the ocean) and you joined me in the self isolation on the Mornington Peninsula (Photoverses: Living in a vacuum). Plans fell through, lessons were learned, skills acquired and new projects arose. So, through some good guidance and more by accident than by design I’m finding new ways to express. Shedding light onto-, putting into words-, kicking ass.

Not soon after embarking I knew I was living the dream. Trunk packed to the brim with camera gear and camping equipment. An ‘’eskie’’ full with food, coffee, thee and instant hot choco. And if I would find myself in poor company, a couple of magazines and a journal to boot. Though, for soon after the odometer passed 400 km's I found myself at a crossroads. The literal kind, stuck between two valleys, as well as the figurative. Granted, that took a little longer to figure out.

Dear Ned,

Or how to reset, re-evaluate and change my behavior.

2 months ago I arrived on Australian soil. The plane landed early in the evening, around dusk, and by the time I was cleared through customs the sun had long past the horizon. After the warm welcome by my family, we drove through the night from Melbourne airport down to the peninsula.  The sky was pitch black, the only illumination coming from the scarcely lit streets. After a little more than an hour we finally arrived. There was only one thing on my mind; ‘’sleep.’’