Another year azoka'd. Back in the sage confines of my widescreen life. I look back at my pictures and think a lot about loneliness, distance. In the Basque Country, I wore my headphones a lot, set myself back, was silent and anonymous. As long as I keep my mouth shut I pretty much pass as someone you don't talk to on the street, I guess, or, rather, I want it that way. I want to remember my father talking to every person he passed, learning their lives for ten minutes or a lifetime. Too many stories is my opinion, I can barely handle the one I have. And, of course, plenty of time for the social, hundreds of people passing by everyday.
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| man walking, alone |
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| looking out window |
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| woman walking along stone wall |
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| smoking man sitting with friend |
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| Woman walking below balcony |
Metric was my soundtrack, and Gose as I navigated myself silently through Basque streets, stopping only long enough for pintxos and txakoli . . .
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| Pintxos and txakoli |
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| In stereo with Chillida |
And then to work and my same back and forth between Durango and Elorrio, where I was remembered from last year.
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| My home for 5 days |
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| In transit |
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| My other home, San AgustÃn |
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| Elorrio salad nights |
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| My Elorrio at night |
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| Shut down and ready for another day |
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