3:08 PM, New York City

I've lived everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Born somewhere my parents weren't from, to parents who weren't even from the same place, I learned early that home isn't a location on a map. It's a feeling you carry with you, shifting and morphing as you move through the world with the souls you meet along the way.

They call people like me Third Culture Kids. We're cultural chameleons, linguistic collectors, perpetual outsiders who somehow fit in everywhere. I've picked up languages the way some people collect stamps, absorbed cultural nuances like osmosis, and made myself comfortable in the uncomfortable space between worlds.

Seventy countries now. Maybe more. I've stood on the ice in Antarctica, watched elephant seals brawl on the beaches of South Georgia, chased light atop mountain ranges in Papua New Guinea, and run from lava in geological depressions in Ethiopia. How lucky I am… Most people will never see these places.

I started taking photos to remember. To prove to myself that these moments were real. But somewhere along the way, the camera became something else, a way to translate feeling into image, image into story, to capture not just what I saw, but what it meant to be there. The weight of mountain air. The anguish or laughter on the faces of poverty-stricken children. The gentle summer sun reflecting off the water on a Mediterranean day. The particular quality of solitude you only find at the edge of the world, or on a long-haul flight headed for an unknown place, where there is deep pain and longing for an unknown place - fernweh.

Felix Specter isn't just a name. It's a philosophy. Happy ghost. I move through the world, leaving barely a trace, collecting experiences without the need to broadcast my every move. No geo-tags. No check-ins. Just the quiet accumulation of moments that matter.

These photographs are what remains. Stories from the edges of maps, invitations into worlds you might not have known existed.

Welcome.