There I was, laying on the floor of my bedroom, looking up at my ceiling as the light retreated from the pools it had made on my carpet back out into the sky. Night was coming, and the day had passed by like it had yesterday and the day before and the week before that—slowly, and without consequence. I had spent most of my time in quarantine just like that—letting the days pass over me like a blanket being pulled over and off of me, again and again.
I started walking around my neighborhood every night, repeatedly photographing the houses around me. I’ve always hated walking—I’ll drive or take the subway to avoid having to, but somehow one of the things I disliked the most became second nature when I was doing it while also doing something I loved. Once I started walking, I didn’t stop. I started in the driveway of my parents house, made countless orbits around the same cul-de-sac for months, walked further and found that I just kept going.
To date, this project is one long continuous walk I’ve been on for years. I don't know why these places that I’ve stumbled upon and photographed are so meaningful to me and why they’ve been calling to me yet, but a friend once told me that meaning comes from doing what feels right, and when I was at the lowest point in my life, this is what felt right, and still does.
See more of the this artist's work: natashasegebre.com
