I’m in Boston this week with my job. I’ve never been to Boston before. So yesterday my colleague and I went for a walk through the city. Everything was electric green. The warm sun shone on the Bostonians airing out from a long, grey winter. Parks were peppered with people laying on the grass and sitting talking on benches. Everywhere you looked there were flowers and blooming trees, accenting Colonial era churches and brick townhouses.
I feel alive when I travel. There is something about exploring a city with camera in hand that transforms columns buildings, brick, glass, and concrete into a playground of possibilities. Around every corner is a new world waiting to be discovered. Every person that walks by is a unique web of dreams, struggles and heartaches. All around me there is color, shape, and movement. Sometimes I am nearly overwhelmed with the sheer beauty and scope of it all. I frequently feel this strange feeling that I do not know the word for. I think it is my heart breaking. Breaking because I cannot fully take in all the beauty and possibility around me. Yet I try.
This is why I take pictures.
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