The Far Reaches

When I close my eyes and think of the South my senses are overwhelmed with sounds, visuals, and smells. The images are ethereal and hazy. The sounds are a mixture of cicadas, soft  jazz, leaves rustling, a quiet rumble of thunder, and the distant wail of a train whistle…all intertwined, sounding as if on an old scratched record. The smells are of dirt, honeysuckle, rain in the air, and the faint hint of fried food. Where else, other than the South, is there such a strong sense of place? I don’t know, maybe its just me…does anyone else experience this phenomenon?

This is why I will never move from the South, it is my muse. I always strive to capture the emotions I have about this haunted and magical land. There is a tangible atmosphere that I seem to walk through when I’m on the search for a photograph, or maybe its just the humidity…

4 thoughts on “The Far Reaches

  1. Yes, brother Evan, it is the humidity. And more. It certainly is an emotional attachment.
    I’m of the opinion you should have done this blog thing a long time ago. Great to hear you and see your work my friend.

  2. In addition to your extensive photographic skills, you’re also an excellent writer. I’ve never been to what can properly be called the South, but your writing has certainly enhanced the “feel” of the place, based on what I’ve seen and read.

    I feel the same sense of place about, and attachment to, the north, although my descriptors would be somewhat different. I don’t see you mentioning “cold” or “ice” in anything you’ve written about the south.

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