I think of horizons- I think of the sun, the sky and the land a desert perhaps or a large ocean that stretches out but misses the desert every single time.
The unknown is still a reality. And reality is nothing but truth strewn around us like streamers after a child’s birthday. Somebody cleans it for us and displaces it from where it was meant to be. Unless of course, one argues that streamers are temporary and anyways meant to be on the floor. Like all living, non-living things have a cycle, the same purpose, to be- alive and striving for the reason we are made- or not to be- when we are done with what we were here for we go- discard into thin air, disappear- till we are nothing but maybe a name on a piece of paper that too perhaps is crumpled torn, long gone.
Until we imagine. The truth is but our own perception of the unknown- uncertain- un-thought. Here I go back in time to places traveled, realities existing as photographs, to find a truth.
This body of work will forever by in progress, as more unknown realities are experienced.
