Location: Port Au Prince, Haiti
Lately, I’ve been in and out of darkness, traversing through land, sea, and air—catapulting myself across oceans in every direction—back and forth. I’m tired, drained of emotions, exhausted beyond comprehension.
During the last two months, I’ve traveled to over sixteen countries, four continents, and six different time zones. I’ve seen night for day and day for night. I’ve been to the ends of the earth and back—from the toughest terrains to the wrenching heartache of rubble and despair. From the Himalaya’s of northern India to the depths of desperation in earthquake torn Haiti. The world just seems so much smaller than it used to be.
Sometimes, amidst my travels, I’d find time and space for myself—alone and desolate, just me and my thoughts—I’d sit there wondering where else I’d rather be. Dust and dirt littered my hair, the stench of body odor of days past permeated through my pores, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any better or worse, it always does—one way or another. But at the end of each day when I’d lay my head to rest, I’d look up into the abyss and stare into complete darkness—close my eyes—and gently smile to myself as I reflected upon what I had done. And at that very moment, I knew that this was my place and time, my calling—and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Most recently, I’ve just returned from an assignment in Haiti with my good friend and fellow award-winning photographer Dan Denardo. It was harder than most assignments—because this time, I went in without a camera and dared myself to simply write about my experience and turned the challenge of shooting photo’s over to Dan. Words cannot describe how hard it was for me to give up my tools, but I knew that there was no photog out there better than Dan. His work is world class.
Robbed naked of my cameras, I walked the beat of a journalist—writing and etching my thoughts on paper as the sound of Dan’s shutter echoed just inches away from my ears. From one tent city to another, one mound of rubble to the next, we ventured into some of the most sordid environments known to man. But in the midst of darkness and despair prevailed an underlying truth that most media outlets do not talk about—and that truth, is HOPE. There is more to Haiti than broken homes and shattered dreams, carnage and desperation—there’s more, a lot more.
Through Dan’s stunning photography and my words, I hope to bring to you stories that will touch you, reach deep into the depths of your heart and instill within you a profound understanding of our world—in all her glory—and suffering—and at the end of it all, you and I, and all those we reach--shall be changed.