Urban myths, decay, and folklore begin and end with streetscapes. I have never felt so alone as when walking in a city full of life and people and noise. It's easy to get lost and disappear.
This ethereal town, on the coastal region of South East Georgia, holding its own against war and flame. Ghosts walk among us and through us, the sky painted with stories and song. From in the air or down below, the view is sacred and still.
Prague in color, in the rain, in the fog, at night, in the morning, while pretending to hang out with Hemingway's ghost and have coffee with literati, wandering, and lost sometimes. Prague is a city of ghosts, bloodshed, and beauty and strangeness and hidden spaces. Prague is a city where swans caught fire and burned the rivers, where tanks rolled over gypsy musicians who refused to stop playing in the midst of a revolution, where art faced off war and won.