The first snowfall of the season brought me to the beach. Seriously.

The first time shooting for the New York Observer found me at a dark bar at 11pm on a Monday night after teaching a photo class. Did I mention I biked there in the snow?

An interesting thing happened after driving back into the United States from Vancouver, British Columbia in July. Something that would have been a nightmare had I been on assignment.

It’s been two months since my last post from my summer travels in the American West. Having finished a separate spat of travels between then and now, and seeing how I left off previously in Montana, I’ll pick back up in Glacier National Park.

Jackie appears to have spent some time frolicking before buckling down for Fashion Week this past month.

Wyoming reveals majestic mountain peaks and a bubbling underground.

My first weekend in Southeast Kansas coincided with the annual festival known as Little Balkans Days, held in Pittsburg to commemorate the region’s history as a melting pot of European immigrants back at the start of coal mining in the 1860s.

Across the road from our house is a fried chicken restaurant and a church. So it’s not so much that I wondered why the city of Pittsburg, Kansas — roughly 25 miles from Joplin, Missouri — has only one mosque.

Another self-review while the rest of the crew out exploring America.

Three days and three states, from a spooky mining town and hippy enclave to a fossil-filled river gorge.