Silver Stories XI || Tokyo, Japan ‘11 :: My first day in Japan I woke up in a room narrow enough that I could touch both walls when I stretched my arms out. Claustrophobic and jet lagged I grabbed the camera and headed out into the streets. I walked for hours, reminding myself, you can’t get lost if there is nowhere you’re supposed to be. Amidst the hustle of Tokyo, I found myself drawn to others, like this woman, who also seemed to have nowhere else to be but where they were.
Silver Stories X || Rio de Janeiro, Brazil ‘11 :: Never have I encountered so many brilliant smiles as during the days of Carnival in Rio. There is an openness and gaiety that is infectious. It pulses through the city to the rythm of roaming musical troops, spread and amplified in the cacophony of the dancing feet upon the streets; blind to color, creed or class, for a brief time the city is whole.
Silver Stories IX || Tokyo ‘11 :: How many decisive moments occur each day?
Silver Stories VIII || Bombay on the Salton Sea, California ‘12 :: The town is mostly gone. Houses stand like gravestones, orderly and silent. Most folks left after the flood and didn’t come back. Decay creeps silently, undisturbed by the passing steps of the few who remained. And for their part, the ones who still live there seem happy.
Silver Stories VII || Rural Nicaragua, ‘11 :: While photographing for a small non profit (El Porvenir) in Nicaragua, we came across this group of boys armed with sling shots. We watched them for awhile, curious as they waded up the river, intently searching for something. When they reached us, I asked what they were hunting and they proudly held up their day’s catch.
Silver Stories VI || Cape Town, South Africa ‘12 :: When I was just a baby, an old woman my parents met while biking in New Zealand asked to hold me. She looked at me and said with a smile, “Boris [she misheard my name], you have an evil glint in your eye”. This girl had a similar glint I think - full of life and mischief, and we laughed a lot together.
Silver Stories V || Buenos Aires, Argentina ‘11 :: We walked in the rain, my brother and I, through the old Recoleta cemetery, stopping to wonder at the strange states of excess and decay in which the various tombs lay. As the rain lifted, a mirror of puddles gathered in the park under the banyan trees. Sometimes it takes events beyond our control to make us stop and reflect.
Silver Stories IV || Transekie, South Africa || As we drove out of Cape Town and into the Wild East, the roads grew narrower, the automobiles older, and the stares from the children lingered longer.
Silver Stories III || Kamakura, Japan ‘11 :: Tokyo sucked us in, spun us round, and turned the lights off. It took us weeks to escape from that strange sprawling city; but when we did we found a peace and quiet in the ancient bamboo groves and cedar forests that was deeper, older and far more powerful than the frenetic energy of the city.
Silver Stories II || London, UK ‘11 || He sat with his back against a beech tree, seemingly oblivious to the parade behind him, and slowly rolled a thin scrap of paper around a pinch of loose tobacco. It was the day of the Royal Wedding. He had slept the night under a large beech tree and awoke to find himself in the midst of the parade route. As he dipped the brim of his London cap and cupped his hands together to shield a small flame, I read the letters L-O-V-E inked across the fingers of his left hand. When I think back to all the people I met on the day of the wedding, for some reason he is the one I remember most.