It all starts with a crooked road and a questionable idea.
You pack a camera, convince yourself you are young enough and dumb enough to survive whatever comes next, and you go. Not because it is safe. Not because it is smart. You go because the world has a way of calling you out, daring you to come find out what is really out there.
Amanda and I spent the first years after college chasing that dare across continents. Africa. Europe. Cities that never slept and deserts that swallowed sound. We were broke, curious, restless, and absolutely unprepared for most of what we walked into. Photography became our passport. It opened doors we never would have knocked on and pulled us into lives we never expected to touch.
The photos here are not neat or polite. They are loud. Chaotic. Honest.
Couples tangled in the streets of Copenhagen. Nomadic tribes in the deep stretches of Namibia who welcomed us into their lives. Machete carrying gator handlers somewhere in the African heat. Stylish Muslim football players tearing up a beach at sunset. Elephants walking beside us like old souls on their afternoon commute. Moments you cannot plan. People you never forget.
We were homeless in Rome for a while and learned that beauty lives in the cracks of a city. We lived on a beach in Morocco long enough to lose track of the days. We clubbed our way through London until sunrise and somehow made flights we had no business making. Brussels, Zimbabwe, South Africa, Botswana, Italy. Each place leaving marks on us that no guidebook would ever mention.
Look closely. Every frame is a confession. A risk. A decision to say yes when every logical part of you is screaming no.
This is not curated travel.
This is the world the way it really is—chaotic, beautiful, unpredictable, and absolutely worth remembering.
