“Imagine yourself streaming through time shedding gloves, umbrellas, wrenches, books, friends, homes, names. This is what the view looks like if you take a rear-facing seat on the train. Looking forward you constantly acquire moments of arrival, moments of realization, moments of discovery. The wind blows your hair back and you are greeted by what you have never seen before. The material falls away in onrushing experience. It peels off like skin from a molting snake. Of course to forget the past is to lose the sense of loss that is also memory of an absent richness and a set of clues to navigate the present by; the art is not one of forgetting but letting go. And when everything else is gone, you can be rich in loss.”
-Rebecca Solnit

Alabama to New Mexico in February, then straight back to Alabama. Lake Charles, Louisiana in April. North Carolina in June. Finally, the mountains of Washington state in July. In the weeks following a cross-continental move in early 2020, I suddenly found myself untethered to anywhere or anything. Like postcards from a surreal series of travels, these images are my most vivid memories from a year where things came undone.