Look into the eyes of innocence. What do you see?


I see a memory, a moment, something unforgettable. I see stories, lots of them. Perhaps some like this, stood out from the rest. I see the whole state of Montana. I see the people that made this journey possible, the mountains and trees that kept me sane. Of course, I see a goat, and I can picture his mother not far behind. I can hear the camera shutter clicking, and imagine his reaction once again. I still remember the rock I sat upon, and how uncomfortable it was, just as I remember reassuring myself to stay still and be cool - it's just a goat man, it's just a goat. I can picture the look on my face, as I first glanced at the back of my camera. Tom's too, as I showed him the result of the encounter. Beyond the goat, I see my evening hikes in Yellowstone and Red Lodge, listening to the birds and the creeks rushing through camp. The marmots squeaking outside the tent, as I sat atop the Beartooths, braving the 40mph gusts of frigid wind. I can feel each breath of air I fought for up there, as I battled elevation and the thoughts in my own head. I can see the hikes out, and the drives down the pass each night. I can see the Flat again, as if I were still there. I can see the open road that never seemed to end, and how quickly everything changed once it did. In the end, I feel the drive to get back to you, Montana. 


As I sit on my summer porch in New York, I reflect. I will relive this journey through words, and photographs, and memories, until I experience it again, in all of its forms. 


Look into the eyes of innocence. What do you see? 

I see all of these places, the places I want to be.