During my journey as an air hostess between distant cultures to plastic food.


Despite being granted the opportunity to travel to distant places and meet foreign cultures, my memories of this period in my life are indistinct. At a certain point, my individual visits lost their individuality, places both united and distanced. Languages, landscapes and cultures both muddled and merged. In hindsight, I do not hold distinct memories from my visits, just filtered Instagram posts logging my pseudo-travels.

I found common-ground between the counterfeit lenses that Instagram employs and my artificial existence as an air hostess.

With Filter