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Beyond and where there is no color but the vast horizon
the dusky plain the faded sky
and where there is no sound but the quiet hum of the sweet prairie air
soft rustle of wanderlust dreams
where the flight of birds is endless and roads too.
This past August we rode our motorcycles from Reno to Maine. Its a trip we've dreamed about since we were kids.
This is a shot from somewhere in Wyoming. I had my camera slung around my neck, turned on, lens cap off, for 5,000 miles. I learned to shoot while driving, and left-handed too.
If I'd had to stop everytime I wanted to take a picture we'd still be in Nevada.
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