One o’clock in the morning, Reykjavik, Iceland. I can’t sleep. Right as I had begun to slip into dreams, the thunderous blasts of fireworks sounded outside my window, and, curious, I stepped into the kitchen, peering up at the rainy night sky. Before me exploded the fireworks of my dreams. Earthy, raw, impressionistic, full of suspense and anticipation and utterly celestial. I stood breathless with my camera in the kitchen, firing, firing. Now all I can think about are photographs. My alarm clock will sound in four hours.
Since I last wrote, everything has been a blur – twenty-three hours in the back of a tiny airplane hurdling through the Arctic sky, the infinity of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, being home, seeing friends, seeing family, making pictures, packing, packing. Nearly two days of international travel. Photographs, meetings, running. Today I ran thirteen miles. My body is exhausted, but sleep won’t come.
Tomorrow we leave Reykjavik and I do not know when I will have access to a computer again, so for now I wanted to leave you with a single photograph. My mother, near our house, Alaska.