Barbed Fence
Along a road leading to the Atlantic Ocean, away from the artillery batteries between the landing beaches Omaha and Gold.
Matt Feldman PhotographyInspiring you to get out there, in the distance, and see it for yourself.
Matt Feldman Photography
Along a road leading to the Atlantic Ocean, away from the artillery batteries between the landing beaches Omaha and Gold.
From early winter, an old tree and dilapidated barn on the street where I grew up.
Trees along the walk to Mont Saint Michel.
The site of an ancient windmill sits in a field near the coast, in the Basse-Normandie region in northwestern France. It’s just a few kilometers from the D-Day beaches.…
Mount Mulanje, from the window of the UNICEF vehicle.
It is warm. For the first time since my departure from Baltimore, many hours and 15,994 km of flying prior, I notice the air temperature. It is distinctly un-planelike. And humid. I have arrived in the terminal of Lilongwe’s airport and am staring out the window at the lush green fields reaching to the edge of the parking lot. Taxis and shuttles board their passengers for the half hour trip into the capital city. Rather than heading to the city, I wait for my backpack, naively hoping that the South African Airways staff will somehow discover it in the empty plane and bring it to me. When they finally tell me the bag is still in Johannesburg, I find a taxi and set out for my hotel.
Climbing southward out of Amsterdam, bound for Paris. The forests and farms of The Netherlands about to disappear below the clouds.