Eating dust and crunching salt in the Atacama Desert, Chile

A view of the driest desert in the world, the Atacama Desert in Chile as we approached in the bus.
The salt crusted dry riverbed where we cycled in Valle de la Luna

Shooting the world, one country at a time
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Oh to be invisible in a sea of humanity, in the sprawl of the city, a little whisper in a roaring wave. I wander, looking, observing, recording. For what purpose am I doing this? For whom is this photographic record intended? I don’t exactly know. Something compels me. Perhaps it is the most obvious way to share my view of the world around me, one that is at once beautiful and grotesque, serendipitous and staged, symmetrical and chaotic.
For now, I am merely the record keeper.









View the rest of my ongoing X-Pro1 experiences and photos or the rest of the photos on Handcarry Only
Fridge Magnet Poem, Essaouira
He told her about the wild dogs
that howl all night in the Himalayas
while they were in Essaouira,
(Mogador, the ships once knew it by).
They sat in wicker chairs with white
cushions on the bastioned wall.
There were gulls, tables of people
eating fish in the Lilliputian harbour, St Pierre,
she could smell the sardines.
Daphne Manners. She felt like Daphne
Manners without her spectacles.
Pale white girl, blinking in the sun,
in a land of dark skinned men
and the kohl-rimmed lids
of the Sheherezades.