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 Moving to Ireland once started as a fairy-tale. But what do we know about a person when starting a new relationship? And what do you know about a place before living there?
       
     
 Years later, troubled by shadowy memories but with a life inside me, I retraced the steps of a previous journey. Unsure what would happen by travelling back in time, it felt like it was a necessary pilgrimage I had to make. What was left of gloomy memories of the past? I had to discover the line between my memories and the reality of the place.
       
     
 I started my trek as I had done while I lived there, leaving Dublin to head to the waterfront. As I passed the grey, plastered walls of houses and the vast emptiness of farmland I first felt confirmed in my feeling of how lonely and scared I had been there at times. I drove the winding roads, with each bend returning places once significant, but the sadness of memory didn’t remain as strong. Perhaps I returned during a sunny summer that never existed while I lived there or possibly in my unborn child I found new kindness to give to old memories.
       
     
04 it wasnt me blote benen.jpg
       
     
 Either way, the unexpected twist of feelings that turned along as the road did brought along a new view of an old land. The camera could only see what I saw now, never able to capture the black and white recollection I thought it would find. Like watching an old film later digitally colorized, the memories weren’t original but tinted into something new.
       
     
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47.jpg
       
     
19.jpg
       
     
 Moving to Ireland once started as a fairy-tale. But what do we know about a person when starting a new relationship? And what do you know about a place before living there?
       
     

Moving to Ireland once started as a fairy-tale. But what do we know about a person when starting a new relationship? And what do you know about a place before living there?

 Years later, troubled by shadowy memories but with a life inside me, I retraced the steps of a previous journey. Unsure what would happen by travelling back in time, it felt like it was a necessary pilgrimage I had to make. What was left of gloomy memories of the past? I had to discover the line between my memories and the reality of the place.
       
     

Years later, troubled by shadowy memories but with a life inside me, I retraced the steps of a previous journey. Unsure what would happen by travelling back in time, it felt like it was a necessary pilgrimage I had to make. What was left of gloomy memories of the past? I had to discover the line between my memories and the reality of the place.

 I started my trek as I had done while I lived there, leaving Dublin to head to the waterfront. As I passed the grey, plastered walls of houses and the vast emptiness of farmland I first felt confirmed in my feeling of how lonely and scared I had been there at times. I drove the winding roads, with each bend returning places once significant, but the sadness of memory didn’t remain as strong. Perhaps I returned during a sunny summer that never existed while I lived there or possibly in my unborn child I found new kindness to give to old memories.
       
     

I started my trek as I had done while I lived there, leaving Dublin to head to the waterfront. As I passed the grey, plastered walls of houses and the vast emptiness of farmland I first felt confirmed in my feeling of how lonely and scared I had been there at times. I drove the winding roads, with each bend returning places once significant, but the sadness of memory didn’t remain as strong. Perhaps I returned during a sunny summer that never existed while I lived there or possibly in my unborn child I found new kindness to give to old memories.

04 it wasnt me blote benen.jpg
       
     
 Either way, the unexpected twist of feelings that turned along as the road did brought along a new view of an old land. The camera could only see what I saw now, never able to capture the black and white recollection I thought it would find. Like watching an old film later digitally colorized, the memories weren’t original but tinted into something new.
       
     

Either way, the unexpected twist of feelings that turned along as the road did brought along a new view of an old land. The camera could only see what I saw now, never able to capture the black and white recollection I thought it would find. Like watching an old film later digitally colorized, the memories weren’t original but tinted into something new.

05.1 it wasnt me bergen water.jpg
       
     
06 it wasnt me paarden oog.jpg
       
     
07 it wasnt me zee.jpg
       
     
08 it wasnt me vlieger.jpg
       
     
15.jpg
       
     
13.jpg
       
     
17.jpg
       
     
18.jpg
       
     
20.jpg
       
     
25.jpg
       
     
27.jpg
       
     
29.jpg
       
     
30.jpg
       
     
31.jpg
       
     
39.jpg
       
     
48.jpg
       
     
47.jpg