Our contemporary landscape is built for mobility.  On the aptly-named freeway, there is a sense of optimism, anonymity, possibility, independence and suspension of responsibilities.  But in travel there is also the feeling of dislocation, loneliness and searching.  Personal identity, time and place become negotiable and slippery. 

It is here where I find a strange clarity, especially when traveling alone. It is not so much about where I’m looking, as what I think about while looking. My view of the landscape is skewed by my interior dialogue.