Searching for a particular picture last week, I noticed a pattern in my photos: horizon shots. Loads and loads of them. The sky, usually blue, the horizon, winding.
I could never live in the woods or the mountains – one word: claustrophobic. As a prairie girl, the horizon is grounding to me. Only see up? Not a chance. I need to see out.
Getting out of the city and rolling through hills, farms and fields … cathartic. So, when life piles up on me, I go. Tunes, coffee, road trip, gone.
“Why does every road eventually narrow into a point at the horizon? Because that’s where the point lies.” ― Vera Nazarian,
Is there a pattern in the photos you’ve taken? What is it?