The Wayfaring Stranger
The mostly unedited ramblings of a man who rarely proofreads the chaos of words flowing from his fingertips…
I stood beneath a sky so dark it broke against my bones in waves of midnight flowers. The air pressed against my skin as a low rumble of thunder rolled across the wasteland of my heart. Inside of the storm was the lifeless beating of a broken heart.
Read MorePhotos from Austria
Read MoreSunlight drifted like cobwebs in the air, filtering through the green of living things. It turned the forest floor into a patchwork of golden light, setting the ferns aglow.
The difficult thing about being an artist is that your best work comes from when you put a little bit of yourself into it. A smidgen of curiosity, a whale of anxiety, a dollop of wonder, a bucket load of passion, loss, love, heartbreak, your drive to create, throw it all in the mix.
Read MoreThe stars were beginning to bloom into existence as I drove north, despite the wind howling cold and dark against my car, the night was quiet. I turned music on loud to keep the silence at bay and kept driving.
Read MoreA planned sunrise hike turned into an early morning drive to the Adirondacks, and a few last minute Instagram DMs found me a crew and a plan to hike Big Slide, an ADK High Peak.
Read MoreDuty is heavier than a mountain, death lighter than a feather...
Read MoreSome moments, when snow is filtering down from the sky, and the cold is bitter beyond brick walls, you meet up with friends for photo shoots in Troy coffee shops.
Read MoreSwinging in my hammock beneath patches of stars, a cool breeze rushes in from the sea, rolling in a haze of patchy cloud over my head. The stars flit in and out of existence through the swaying palms, unhappy that I won’t come up to play.
Read MoreSunlight streamed through the shops windows, dancing among the inaudible buzz of voices, the squeak of hangers, and the technicolor palette of clothing that filled the room. I ducked into the alley between two coat racks and the staccato click of my shutter joined the white noise all around me.
Read MoreSome days I like to write about mountains, photography, and the rising sun, and other days I like to let you into the other side of what I do, and the creative short stories I write and rarely share.
Read MoreI woke up early to chase the dawn. Beneath the pines, the darkness lay deep, but outside the shadow the moon turned the world to silver. The night beckoned, and so I raced through it, my breath panting out in white mist in the frigid cold of the early hours.
Read MoreIt's hard finding creativity scrolling through Instagram when all you see are photos of people getting drunk, and the brunch someone had that morning, but finding a way to correctly use social media can boost your desire to create.
Read MoreWhen I write a story, I usually start with an idea in mind, a daydream that had been playing over and over in my mind until my fingers can't hold back anymore. I have at least one part of the story planned out, one scene that I'm basing the entire structure off of, and I build from there.
Read MoreHonestly, I've always been a basic as heck human being who snapped all of the sunsets on my phone, but once I picked up a camera and starting expanding my work, I found out in trial and error how light actually works.
Read MoreRushing water has always fascinated me, especially as it tumbles out over a drop, cascading into the air in a roar of excitement. Growing up in New York, I've had a bit of time to check out some of the best locations to see waterfalls in the state.
Read MoreSomething draws you to a place, or pushes you towards it. You're there because of something, you are where you are because of the life that you have led.
You can't always escape to the mountains when work becomes too much for your wild mind, or school tries to dull the adventurer inside of you, so you dream of the best things the wilderness can offer you when you unleash your weekend warrior.
Read MoreSome mornings you wake up with creativity flowing through your veins…and some mornings when you wake up you don’t feel a thing. That usual spark of need to do, to act, to create just isn’t there. Some mornings turn into two, then a whole week rolls by with your camera gathering dust and that blinking cursor pestering you at the end of an unfinished paragraph in your latest story.
Read More
