A man fired his gun while I was at Taco Bell. Yes, really. As patrons abandoned their Baja Blasts and emergency services responded, this street artist was totally unphased. And yes, I got a refund.
#photography #chicago #ricoh
Sunflowers in the French countryside. Vincent Van Gogh died in the nearby village. He often came to this area to paint. He is thought to have shot himself not far from here. His grave is also overgrown with weeds.
#photography #art #travel
My bus arrived in Belgrade, Serbia at 11:30 pm. I’d been held up at the Hungarian border for hours, pounding cheap cigarettes on a cracked highway shoulder while armed guards combed through every vehicle. I was eager to stretch my legs, but also a bit disoriented. The winding streets were dark, cramped and quiet. There was nobody outside except for me. For one of the nightclub capitals of the world, it was eerily still. I could not read the signs directing me through town, nor could I decipher the graffiti covering every square inch of concrete. However, I did not feel uneasy. Belgrade’s gritty atmosphere at first appears uninviting, but it slowly envelops you.
