It’s an odd number to pause on. Not fifty. Not one hundred. Just eighty-nine countries, spread across all seven continents, each one leaving behind a collection of photographs, stories, friendships, and lessons that could never fit inside a suitcase.

People often ask, “Which country was your favorite?” I’ve learned that’s the wrong question. Every place has given me something different. Antarctica taught me silence. Nepal taught me resilience. Namibia showed me cultures that have endured for centuries. Japan revealed beauty in precision and patience. Rwanda reminded me that the most extraordinary moments are rarely the easiest to reach. From bustling cities to remote villages, from wildlife encounters to fleeting expressions on a stranger’s face, every destination has quietly reshaped the way I see the world.

When I started traveling, I thought I was collecting destinations. Now I realize the destinations have been collecting pieces of me. Photography has a way of slowing time. It asks you to notice the things most people walk past—a glance between friends, the curve of morning light, the wrinkle in a Sherpa’s weathered hands, the split second before a bird takes flight. The camera has never been my passport. Curiosity has.

This fall, the number changes. Greenland. Brazil. Paraguay. Bolivia. Colombia. Five more places. Five more opportunities to stand somewhere I’ve never stood before. Five more chances to discover that the best photographs are usually the ones I never planned to make. The goal has never been to check countries off a list. If it were, I would have stopped long ago. Travel isn’t about accumulating passport stamps.

It’s about collecting perspective.

Every border crossed reminds me how much I still don’t know. Every conversation —even when we don’t share a language—makes the world feel a little smaller and a little kinder.

So this isn’t really a story about eighty-nine countries. It’s about what happens after eighty-nine. Because somewhere beyond the maps

I’ve already unfolded, beyond the places I’ve already photographed, are more moments waiting to surprise me. More people whose stories deserve to be told. More landscapes that will leave me speechless. More lessons I didn’t know I needed. And if the last eighty-nine countries have taught me anything, it’s this: The world is far too remarkable to believe you’ve seen enough.