Visual Diary of a Nomad

This series comprises a visual diary of images of someone who has moved on average every 15 months in the past 24 years (including 5 countries) and touches upon the feeling best transliterated by the poem 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening' by Robert Frost: Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.