In September 2022, with my sons grown, I gave away most of what I owned, packed what remained and chose to leave the New Jersey community I had called home for nearly fifteen years.
The idea was to live somewhere different for about a month at a time, to experience places rather than simply visit them. I figured I'd do it for a year.
Four years later, I'm still going.
I usually stay for weeks rather than days. I rent an apartment or room, unpack, buy groceries, learn how to get around and find somewhere to work. I visit museums and historic sites, but also coffee shops, neighborhood bars, libraries, ballparks, markets and community events. I return to the same places. I talk with people.
Mostly, I walk.
Walking lets me experience a place at about three miles an hour. It gives me time to notice things I might otherwise pass by: how neighborhoods change from block to block, where people gather, what they celebrate, what they remember and the rhythms of ordinary life.
I read. I listen. I photograph. I ask questions.
Given enough time, routes become familiar. People sometimes recognize me. I stop spending every day trying to see a place and begin, however temporarily, living in it.
Sometimes that curiosity leads toward big questions. Just as often, it leads somewhere I couldn't have planned.
Then I leave and begin again.
Moments, encounters and detours that became part of the journey.
Longer stays and recurring places, with writing, photographs and stories gathered along the way.
The journey is still unfolding.
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