Yours, YP.
A collection of pages, portraits, and places.
Things that don't fit into albums or captions.
I crossed the Atlantic right after college. It was my first time on a plane.
I came to the United States and was immediately fascinated by how different life could be in another hemisphere — how large and varied the country was, how many places existed beyond anything I had known before.
Life, as it usually does, took over. Career, family, children, schedules, responsibilities. I became a very typical suburban parent, balancing work, school calendars, everyday logistics and painfully short american vacations with rather limited time to travel.
But the sense of curiosity never disappeared. I kept wanting to see faraway places. And more than that — I wanted to stay with them longer, to understand how they feel, how they breathe, how people live inside them.
I learned early, that if you know about the place before you go there, you can double the effect of a visit. I started planning trips far in advance. Researching routes, reading, mapping, imagining. And then living those journeys fully — slowly, attentively.
When the trips ended, Instagram was no longer enough. I needed a way to hold on to what stayed with me after returning home — impressions, conversations, silence, discomfort, beauty, contradiction. Things that don’t fit into albums or captions.
Passport Pages is where those memories live. It is a collection of pages, portraits, and places. There are also some travel plans, dreams and inspirations.
I write to remember and to keep those places alive.
