The little things feel familiar but new, as if I’d noticed them once before, a very long time ago, and then forgot. 

A story about an atom cycling its way through many forms.

Photographs break our evolutionary convention of time, they transform a single moment into a perpetual state of being.

The feeling of time–the layers of history stacked in a single place.

A warm spring breeze drifted over the paddies, and I could smell the earth, the nearby salt water, the growing crops.

With homes for over 1,700 people, but only about 200 residents, Sakatejima lives in a strange space between village and ghost town.