The Traveler
September 24, Thursday, Portland, Oregon
Walking the terminal at PDX, I discovered remarkable crowds and unique interactions. The architectural backdrop, combined with traces of human interaction, awakened an energy and boldness that pushed me to capture these fleeting moments.
A shared glance or a gentle smile as an unsuspecting traveler passes through.
The uniform pleasure of the first sip of her second cocktail.
The fear and shock as that traveler realizes something was left behind.
The steady stream of presence flowing in and out of the gateways.
People come and go. Gate agents try to remain composed despite their obvious disdain for the same stupid question. The experienced traveler, quick to spot amongst the crowd. She glides in and out through the voids of people, knowing exactly where to step. She swiftly navigates open lanes, passing by wide-eyed tourists, rapidly, yet elegantly, intentionally, but unhurried. She knows the routine. Grabbing her minimal kit, she graces the terminal alone in the crowd.
Thousands of people combine to form the crowded airport. Earbuds engaged, devices in hand, they gather together yet remain alone in the crowd.
We have grown more alone and isolated and constantly on, yet seldom engaged.
The photography bears witness to our disengaged statement of being. Restaurants are dotted with small tables for two, where a single guest dines alongside another. Eating, drinking, on his screen. But everyone doing the same.
We pass through, on our way, on our way, on our way we travel.
““We pass through, on our way, on our way, on our way we travel.””
