There’s something about driving through the countryside in northeast Canada that slows time.
I’m often on the road with no real destination, just chasing silence and space.
And then I see one.
An old barn standing alone in a field, its paint long faded, its roof rusted like dried blood. I don’t know what it is about them, but I always stop. Always wonder. Who built it? Who lived here? Is anyone still coming by to check on it? How old is that wood? What’s inside now?
I live in the city, in a life full of noise and motion, but these barns pull me into something else. Something still. Something with history.
I snap a few frames, climb back in the car, and sure enough, before long, there’s another one. Waiting.
Shot with my Nikon D40 on quiet roads
across eastern Canada.
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