I spent much of yesterday alone, an experience which, after the holidays and a summer and fall of near-constant activity, felt foreign to me. I did mountains of laundry, wrote for an hour or two, shopped for plants, shivered in the cold. I felt alone, but not lonely. The world seemed quiet, but not dead.
These photos by Martin Vlach capture moments like this perfectly.
Visit Vlach's website, here. Thanks, My Modern Met.
(Further viewing & reading: "lonely and/or alone men," my friend Samm Blake's Waiting for the What series, and thoughts on solitude as a type of wilderness.)