Looking at pictures of people whom I know to be deceased seem to always slightly creep me out, causing uncomfortable goosebumps to roll down my spine. I look into their photographed eyes, at their persons, and I feel as though they are standing behind me looking at the photo with me, whispering things into my ear which I cannot hear save the faint tickle of a cool breaths air on my neck. They're never there when I turn.

When remote from my day-to-day surroundings, I am changed. My ability to perceive-my perceptions, altered. The convolution of thoughts in my mind of my wants my desires my goals, remodeled. I wonder, how would I change, were my surroundings-at length-constantly full of change?

I love walking up and down the crowded streets of Bern, my place of birth. The hustle and bustle of the old/downtown city is fascinating to observe. People running in and out of shops. People going to work, going home after work. In the packed train station, people running to catch a train from an array of varying platforms. Hugs, kisses, hand shakes, and other greetings and goodbyes being exchanged vigorously throughout the sea of people resembling a much greater "melting pot" than I have so far been privy to in the land of the "melting pot", the USA. I would not mind passing a year or two in Bern.

As my remaining time in Switzerland grows short, I begin to lament my departure. It's always difficult to leave.

The roadmap for my future is becoming clear. And then, as the large format camera of life rests on its rails, bellows stretched to make clear the focal point, the exposed film falls victim to the leakage of light between the lens and the front plate. The exposed film as detailed as it was when unexposed..