roll #4

somewhere in seattle

Come to think of it, I’m not sure where it comes from exactly. I’ve always assumed walking was a relic of my mothers childhood in the Northern Irish countryside, where she walked often as a girl, along the narrow lanes, hedge rows and deliciously green fields dotted with cows, sheep and potatoes. But I think walking is is also the mark of a traveler, accustom to aimlessly exploring new places by foot. When I was traveling and had arrived in a new place, the first thing I did was go for a walk, long or short, to stretch out after a long overnight bus ride and to orient myself. Wherever my mother’s practice of walking comes from, it was a habit passed onto me, forced upon me when I was younger and now a cherished pastime.

Since moving to Seattle, walking has bookended most days, with my camera and a fresh roll of film keeping me company as I wonder along. I live in Ballard, an area home to industries, lumber and fishing, harbors filled with boats, and various workshops. Here are some photographs from an evening stroll back in March.

the end