I walked across America.

For six months, I walked from Maine to California. People ask me why I did it and I don't have a good answer. I just needed time to think, to sort things out. Photography was an afterthought. I almost didn't bring a camera. At the last minute I bought a used point-and-shoot and shoved it in my pocket. I had no agenda, no plan. I slept in ditches and cemeteries, in mountains, forests and burning deserts. I met every sort of American you could imagine.

I had a vague sense that this journey would set me straight, that it would force me to figure it all out. It didn't. So when people ask me if I found what I was looking for I will say: No I did not. I had an adventure.

When it was over I forgot about these pictures. There was nothing there, nothing worth looking at. All the people I had met, all the things I had experienced would just exist as memories. But then I took a look at what I'd chosen to photograph and I saw something else. Something more personal. A view from the road beneath my feet. A road across America.