Early fall 2016, I took this while hiking near the Vermillion River near Sudbury, Ontario, Canada.
I heard the roar of a million leaves. There were tracks in the dirt. I was all alone but I knew that something had been here before me. I walked for hours and all I heard was the wind. Through the trees, I saw a bird soaring through the sky. I thought about death. Could he see me? Could he sense my anticipation?
I kicked my feet up on the banks of a river. On the rocks, I smoked a cigarette. I contemplated the weight of my existence. The river didn’t give a shit about me. There were waves stretching back across time and space. I thought about life. How far can we see? Is there meaning in meaningless things?