Before I became a photographer, I was already an avid traveller. Much of the interest I had (and still have) in travelling was related to that itchy feeling of not knowing what awaited at the other side of the hill. Curiosity, in one word, was the very reason I devoured the atlas, imagining how those faraway places would look like and daydreaming about the personal discovery of such places. Travelling was a way to quench a thirst of curiosity, dream, exploration and imagination.
During my first trips I decided to use travel guides, as a way to find my way through the different places and get to know which areas were worth visiting, when to go and how much time to allow. Little did I know that, as soon as the guides were put in the bag, there would be no place left in it for curiosity, dreams, imagination and exploration – they would all need to be thrown overboard.
After a while, I realised I had started consuming trips, rather than living them. Closing myself to a list of boxes to tick off, following a script written by someone else, telling me what to do, where and when to go. I was filling the world with qualitative labels of what was worthy and what was not; I was leaving no space for... [vision_notification style="tip" font_size="20px"]Read the whole article inside issue 68.[/vision_notification]