“Of all the books in the world ~ the best stories are found between the pages of a Passport”
One sunny morning in the spring of 2012, whilst sifting through a pile of old, uncompleted poems and song lines, scribbled over the years onto patchy scraps of paper, then stacked away and neglected inside an even older shoe box, I came across my first passport.
As I riffled through its pages, each pair of ‘Entry and Exit’ rubber-stamp, inked impressions seemed to be calling for its story to be told; each wanting clarification on the comings and goings of its intermezzo.
And as the fountain of interwoven memories began to sprout the minutiae of my everyday existence, it became clear to me how significant these dates had actually been at that stage of my life. Each stamping represented a reflection of an episode, a time, which had been lived through at an age where much raw experimentation and discovery had been carried out.
As I began the task of chronicling the stampings, I realized that more needed to be said about my early life. And so, the more I tapped on the keypad, the more I found myself being captivated by the experience of going back in time and reliving events that had taken place so, so long ago.