“I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn’t know who I was – I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn’t scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost.”
( Jack Kerouac – On the road )
Happened to me twice since I first came to New York.
Twice and counting.
pictures on film taken in New York | unretouched | Minolta Dynax 300si
January 2014 | STYLING BY RALUCA ROȘU
photography by Ion Sterpan & #dailytutliputli ( 2 self-portraits included)
Location(s): Lower East Side, Upper East Side (92Y), Brooklyn Bridge