I went home* last week, for a funeral. It was the bad kind, the too soon, no warning, leaves devastation in the hearts of a family and community kind.
Along the way, in a haze of sadness I took some photos on my phone, an attempt to grab hold of moments of reality in a journey that felt like a horrible dream. At times it seemed wrong but then the man we were saying goodbye to was the man who first taught me to take photos 15 years ago and who introduced me to the concept of photojournalism which I'd never heard of before. I hope he wouldn't have minded.
* 'home' is used interchangeably to mean the island I grew up on and the city I now live in. If I don't know where my home is why should you?