From Bay Shore, on Long Island, to Fire Island is a 20- minute ferry ride. Fire Island is only 50 miles from New York City, but when I board the ferry it feels more like 1000 miles.
Usually the sky and water are blue and the wind is blowing. The ferry ride encourages a dreamlike state of mind— a letting go, as if in a daze, a moment to contemplate, to think or not to think, to plan, to stare.
One day I started taking pictures of the people sitting in front of me on the ferry.
Who were these people? What were they thinking about? All I could see of them were their backs, head, hair, shirt collar, or maybe some jewelry-small details.
This series was created without the knowledge of the subjects. It does not portray their faces, and hopes to tell a story without interrupting the quiet, private moments of people literally and figuratively in transit.
