In February 2012 I sent out an invitation to family and friends to walk with me.  We began to take our walks and I began to make photographs. I was looking for something as yet undefined and as time went by I felt that our walks were unrecordable. By the time we reached our destinations, the experience was beyond reach. The photographs that I took on those walks were no real record, the list of what they could not communicate was without end; sounds, smells, the touch of rain, the conversations, the times when nothing happened except our steps, as we watched our feet. Perhaps most of all, the pictures could not speak of the movement, the travelling. By April I was ready to walk on my own and I knew that my search for something intangible was in effect a pilgimage. I took a train to Eastbourne and walked back home to Brighton along the coast, watching and following the sea horizon.  As I walked I felt the weight of everything I left behind me, of all that was lost. Looking out to the horizon I understood that the relationship between experience and representation is both real and illusory. Like the sea and the sky, forever joined and always separate.