Swiss Made

Suddenly, you're adrift in a place that’s not your own. The air is different here—thinner, almost clinical—and everything around you feels like it’s waiting to be learned. A new house, a new neighborhood, unfamiliar turns that you must learn quickly. But as you move through these spaces, searching with the vague hope of discovery, you find instead the echoes of old habits. Familiar routines dressed in new clothes, set against a sky that is not yours—a less forgiving sky, perhaps, but one that has its own austere beauty. 

A sky that can throw down snow, cast a cold, indifferent light, and whip up a wind that is neither warm nor biting, just gray. I find myself jotting down these thoughts as I drive down roads that feel more like sketches than finished lines. Objects—strange, iconic—appear in my path as if I willed them into existence. I don't seek them out; they reveal themselves to me, almost tauntingly, as I wander more slowly than ever, my mind drifting to thoughts of what might come next - thoughts of the future.