Hey, I’m David 📷🌍 I’m 36, from Australia, and I’ve been living on the road for 12 years now. My camera is always with me. I love meeting people, hearing their stories, and sharing interesting faces, warm talks, and big dreams. Stay for roads, people & moments. 🚐 — D.
3/3
I didn’t know him, but this is his bagpipe.
— And you, do you study, work?
— I play. So the wind won’t forget. So the stones remember. So someone, hearing, feels — they’re remembered too.
She played again. And even the seagulls over the city fell silent for a moment.
1/3 🧵
I heard her before I saw her. In old Edinburgh, the bagpipe tore through the mist.
Young and beautiful, in a white blouse, dark vest, and kilt with bright tartan, a glengarry crowned her look. Tourists tossed coins, someone paused for a moment.
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You... play the bagpipe? — it burst out of me.
— I thought that was only for men.
She smirked, set down the mouthpiece: In Scotland, the clan’s heart doesn’t ask gender. Here my great-grandfather played, and the wind blew when he went to war. Then came a letter...
"The waves know me better than anyone."
In Chile I met José — a fisherman from a tiny ocean village.
He sails out before dawn and comes back when the sun is high above the boats.
He talks little, smiles often. The sea, the wind and the salt tell his story instead.
Hey, I’m David 📷🌍 I’m 36, from Australia, and I’ve been living on the road for 12 years now. My camera is always with me. I love meeting people, hearing their stories, and sharing interesting faces, warm talks, and big dreams. Stay for roads, people & moments. 🚐 — D.
1/3 🧵
Millennia of enmity between their peoples, sixty years of friendship between two men - and one bench. Yakov and Amir - sons of immigrants, born neighbors in New York and remained neighbors all their lives. Their wives are long gone, and their children have scattered who
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knows where. All they have left is their friendship. In the mornings, they used to play chess here - now Amir can barely see, and every day Yakov comes for him to bring him to this bench and just sit beside him. Sometimes they talk, but more often they sit in
"The waves know me better than anyone."
In Chile I met José — a fisherman from a tiny ocean village.
He sails out before dawn and comes back when the sun is high above the boats.
He talks little, smiles often. The sea, the wind and the salt tell his story instead.
Getting lost in the wild expanses of Yosemite, you can encounter these silent companions by the eternal cliffs, their eyes holding tales of untrodden paths, a fleeting bond in nature's vast embrace.