I need a good long drift but for now I have to content myself with mini drifts around the city instead.
I need a good long drift. Somewhere where the sounds of the night exclude the running engines of cars and the heavy footsteps of the population rushing to get home from work. Somewhere quiet, somewhere far away. Somewhere where I can get lost in my thoughts and no curious eyes could stare at me while I photograph the mundane stuff like I’m a tourist in my own city.
I need a good long drift and this need is pulling at me constantly, making me more restless and anxious than ever.
Of course, this is nothing new or out of the ordinary. I get like this at least three times a year. It’s the downside to having a wandering spirit, to being a discontent traveler.
Also, I really REALLY need new places photograph. I’ve got shelves full of cameras and absolutely zero new places to photograph.
Unfortunately, this wandering spirit also lives in the real world where jobs need attending and bills need paying. So, unless I get lucky enough to win the lottery, which is very unlikely as I’ve never bought a lottery ticket in my life, I just have to breathe in, release, and be satiated with staying put for a little bit longer.
So while I dream little dreams of camping under the stars on warm summer nights in the Sierras while photographing star trails, and taking portraits/cool dips in a crystal clear streams, I have to content myself with mini drifts around the city instead.
I drift in the little moments, those little moments that feel familiar but not overly familiar. The slow realization that I’m watching a movie that’s almost a perfect reflection of my life. Walking down the quiet aisles of local bookstorea while I softly touch the covers of books on display with my fingertips or finding an old hard-to-find album on vinyl in possibly the smallest vinyl store in the world. Looking at relics of the past and feeling a connection to those who had lived in a different time. Enjoying an addictive Greek food basket outside on an unusually cold night under the twinkle of string lights. Discovering that I have a lot more in common with a friend than I originally thought. Even looking down the viewfinder of my Lubitel and happily recognizing a perfect shot.
In these small drifts, I gain more minutes of living and everyday life feels less and less mundane so that I am able to hold out until I can finally go on that much needed good long drift.
All photographs by Michelle Rae. She lives, breathes, and haunts in the City of Angeles.