24 More Hours Around the World

One day in March, we asked our photo contributors to show us what life looked like to them at the time. Together, they made a portrait of a world at once separated, and closer together than ever. On April 26, one month on from the first 24–hour project, enRoute photographers again shared snapshots from a day in their lives – baking, reading lists and wilderness moments included.
 
 
 

Since the world stopped, I’m getting to see the earliest rays of sunlight – the first to kiss North America – a lot. — Adam Hefferman (@adamhefferman)
 

Each sunrise is a reminder that, come tomorrow, Newfoundland, Canada, North America and the whole world are all going to try again. It is hard not to find solace or optimism in that. In the meantime, when I’m not out there photographing and exploring the coast of the Avalon Peninsula, I’m in my kitchen with my sourdough starter like everybody else.
 
 

A rare quiet moment in the Susukino Entertainment District, Sapporo, Japan. — Ben Richards (@benrich__)
 

I came to Sapporo around a month ago to stay with my partner as things worsened in Tokyo. Sapporo is much quieter than Tokyo, and isolation comes more naturally. I go for a walk most mornings, often taking my camera and seeing what I can find. The clock tower in the centre of this crossing stood out to me in particular, marking a specific moment in time as the world passes by around it.

During isolation, I’m staying inspired by working on my travel blog and re–living my archive of images from the last year or so. At times like this we are more connected than ever via social media and online platforms, and I’ve been using that as a way to stay close to friends and photographers alike.
 
 

New life, from the Homecoming Series, shot near the Canadian National Exhibition. — Katherine Holland (@thekittyholland)
 

As always, I have a thousand ideas swimming around my head and I am used to directing my model. But when you are working with family (a necessary luxury at this time) you have to approach things a little differently. I had an epic shot in my head for this Sunday picture, and was seeing rays of light swimming in big, impressive architecture. But my daughter, of course, just wanted to stop and smell the dandelions. So I decided to learn from her, let her do her thing – and she has the best ideas. Learning to let go has been a big theme. I’m seeing a lot more humanity in people, and taking comfort in that. People seem to be a lot more honest than usual, and are slowly figuring out how we can affect real change in a world that needs it.

I am taking and posting a new image every day of quarantine to keep me sane and also to try and connect us all in our separateness.
 
 

A rough–looking coyote by Toronto’s west–end waterfront. — Ian Patterson (@ian_patterson )
 

On a cycle trip I stopped to snap a quick landscape and this lone coyote happened to walk right by me. Luck of the draw.

It is getting harder and harder to stay creative but my inspiration always comes from the world around me. Seeing the resilience, hard work and sacrifices made by local businesses and restaurants has kept me resolved to stay positive and work through this. After all, we’re all in it together.
 
 

I like spending the first half of a Sunday in bed, starting with a cup of coffee. I enjoy the process of making the coffee and, of course, drinking it. Around this time the sun starts to shine directly on my bed – and that makes my day, every day. — Julia Nimke (@julianimkephotography)
 

I stay inspired by reading. The atmosphere, setting and voice of a good book gets me every time. Nothing like travelling to a different reality where there is no coronavirus.
 
 

Plastic sheeting in a shop window falling from the tape that has been weakened in the weeks since the shop closed. — Benjamin Rasmussen (@benjaminras)
 

This is in the Baker neighbourhood in Denver, where I lived for seven years. All of the shops and restaurants are closed and either boarded up or with windows covered over by paper and plastic. Initially, it was thought that their closures would only last for a couple of weeks, and hopeful messages were painted on windows and plywood.

I am taking the time to reconnect with friends. I also run an artists’ space and community called Pattern and a lot of my time is spent curating speakers and conversations.
 
 

My wife and kids walking on a West Vancouver beach. — Grant Harder (@grantharder)
 

I caught this great view as I walked back to the van to get beach toys. It was raining. My son drank pooling water on a log and ate sand with seaweed. My daughter continued to ask for a snack every 10 minutes despite having just eaten and the apparent abundance of foraging options. My wife, as she does, weathered all storms.

We are incredibly lucky to have access to parks and we try to take advantage, whenever possible, for family adventures. On these outings, we’ll often eat lunch in our camper van because eating in a van is always fun. It is amazing to witness the mental growth of my children (one and three years old), and to see my daughter learn to ride a pedal bike for the first time, the day before. I’m certain my heart grew to twice the normal size and I felt like crying – also happening as I write this.

I’m making the most of this time. We talk about the future and plan adventures like building a new cabin, or moving to Bariloche or San Sebastián or Prince George, or not.
 
 

The Eixample neighbourhood, central Barcelona, day 44 of the lockdown in Spain. — Gunnar Knechtel (@gunnarknechtel)
 

We share a communal rooftop, which we can access from time to time. It has become my family’s favourite spot. We are surrounded by beautiful birds that we had never noticed in the 20 years my wife and I have lived here, now with our two daughters. The sound of traffic and busy streets has, for the time being, been replaced by the twittering of birds.
 
 

The stairs to my room at the Floriana Guest House. — Simon Furlong (@simonfurlongphotos)
 

With the changes in tourism, boutique hotels in Cairns are now letting out rooms for long–term stays. I grabbed a nice one at this classic “Queenslander” on the Esplanade of Cairns, built in 1939 by Maltese immigrants (hence the Mediterranean feel). There are virtually no tourists – devastating for tourism in North Queensland, but there’s lots of room for us locals.

I’m seeing nature – the birds of Australia, the local bats – and the serenity is wonderful. There’s time to catch up on projects long–overdue and set up at home for the year as travel will be very limited.
 
 

My family cat Chloe on the back patio of my Mom’s old house. — Michael George (@MichaelGeorge)
 

My Mom passed away a few weeks ago and I am taking care of her old kitty before moving her back to New York.

I am particularly inspired by the new ways people are finding to mourn and cope with death and funerals (and all of life’s other rituals) under these new circumstances. As someone who lost a family member during this pandemic (though it was not due to coronavirus), I am learning how to face grief without the typical community support.

I am now sorting through thousands of family photos and artifacts, organizing and scanning them and trying to make sense of our family history.
 
 

This is my bedroom. — Andrew Querner (@andrewquerner)
 

While the onset of spring normally invites the making of road–trip plans, this year I’m putting that energy towards photographing my neighbourhood in the company of my toddler daughter. We move slowly and retrace the same routes over and over again.
 
 

A socially distanced surfer. — Lindsay Henwood (@lindsayhenwood)
 

It was a very stormy day but we went for our morning walk on Cox Bay. Usually, Tofino is a very busy place with plenty of visitors. My husband, who grew up here, mentioned how it feels like it did when he was a kid, in the 1990s: quiet, lots of space and empty beaches.

It has been incredible to see the wildlife come back. The whales and porpoises are feeding along the normally very busy shore and there are more sand dollars washing up on the beach than I have ever seen. I can only guess this comes from a lack of beachcombers. It feels like a very special time.
 
 

The view at my window. — Maude Chauvin (@maude_chauvin)
 

My apartment has more or less become my world. I am moving to a new house in two months, and now I’m looking at this apartment like I am about to say goodbye to an old friend. It has been six weeks and I’m still amazed to discover little things that make me happy. Here, old flowers from last autumn alongside memories of a lot of wine and little plants that can’t wait to go play outside.

I read somewhere that happiness is to desire what you already have. This crisis really makes you appreciate what you have, and I think we needed that.
 
 

The spice shelves in my kitchen. — Christopher Wise (@lifecwphotographer)
 

On my travel assignments (and the Instagram food account I have created) food and cooking are often a major component of the stories. Now that I am home all the time, like many others I have been cooking many, many meals. I built the shelves myself and have collected or been gifted dried spices from all over the world. I noticed the shapes, colours and rhythms of the jars, bowls and containers are quite wonderful.

With the extra free time I am revisiting the photography books from my library that have been overlooked for some time. Also, I am making playlists for friends and taking my dogs for walks on the empty streets just before curfew – 10 p.m. since April 3.
 
 

My wife made these popsicles from smoothie leftovers. Our boy has no idea we put kale in there. It’s the little victories. — Tobias Wang (@Visualbass)
 

My son and my wife inspire me daily because they reflect what I give out to the world and in return show me the things I need to improve as a friend, a father and a person. Most of my time during the pandemic is spent together with my family. We’ve created weekly schedules to help us keep track of school, exercise and free time. It has been a great help for us to make the most out of each day.
 
 

Somewhere near Nelson. — Kari Medig (@kari_medig)
 

The lakes around our town are quickly filling up with snowmelt and spring freshet. Cool clouds pass overhead like our own thought bubbles. My partner Emily slices avocados and contemplates swimming. Nope, too cold. Going 35 kilometres up a forest service road gets us to some pretty quiet spots, around here.
 
 

Raindrop–covered clovers on a spring day. — Brendan George Ko (@brendangeorgeko)
 

I’ve been taking long walks in neighbourhoods that I had never been in before. Before the lockdown, I travelled a lot for work and would stay in whatever place I was visiting to just walk aimlessly for days. I find myself doing the same now but in a city I have called my second home for over a decade. Creating new experiences and reinvigorating my curiosity has been absolutely wonderful for my mental health.
 
 

A fawn lily, a.k.a. trout lily, a.k.a. Easter lily. — Alana Paterson (@alanapaterson)
 

I love the little creatures I find on big adventures: frogs, bats, little plants. I like to spend time with them and try to be their friend, although they have every right to hate me. I strive to be a steward to the land.

I have been spending a lot more time and energy on my small–scale flower and vegetable farm than I could in the past. It has always been a crazy juggle having this farm and being a full–time photographer, so this year I am able to give the farm the energy it deserves.
 
 

My daughter, near her bedroom where my brother is staying at the moment. — Dorothee Nowak (@doro_now)
 

My brother came to visit us in March and, because of the pandemic, he has had to stay longer. It has been great having him here and watching him play with my daughter, as we do not get to see him that often.

Since we have been in self–isolation the time has passed more slowly, even here in the countryside. But we are lucky that we can still go for a walk on a daily basis.
 
 

Canadian geese swimming in a small puddle in a drained fountain at the Museum of Vancouver. — Jennilee Marigomen (@jennileem)
 

I thought it was funny to see how nature is adapting to the shutdowns, just like us. What is inspiring me now is seeing how kids find joy in the little moments during this time – it’s something we can really learn from. Lately, I have been taking walks at sunset and taking photos.
 
 

The petal of a cherry blossom on my jacket, in the park near my house. — Anna Sullivan (@sayhelloto_anna)
 

These days, it’s the small things that keep me going; finding beauty in the smallest moments.

The wind blew this cherry blossom petal on my jacket when I was sitting on it in the park in the fading sunlight. It floated down, I snapped a photo and then the wind carried it away again one second later.

Everything comes and goes in waves. So I try not to put too much pressure on myself.
 
 

I noticed this half–empty beer bottle perched on a rock on the edge of the East River while on a run a few weeks back. I pass it on my runs and each time I check to see if it is still standing or whether a gust of wind has finally tipped it over. (Still standing.) — Matthew Hintz (@matthewhintz)
 

There is plenty to feel bad about right now, but I also see plenty to feel good about. We need to look at both to take stock of where we’re at as a society and where we can be in the future. I’m inspired specifically by the medical professionals in this country and worldwide who are putting their own lives in jeopardy to help others. Without their selfless efforts this situation would be completely hopeless. We owe them every last ounce of our gratitude.

I have not been doing much at all, and I’m really grateful for the opportunity to do so. This might be one of the few times I can remember having nothing to do and nowhere to go for such an extended period of time. It’s kind of beautiful.
 
 

My daughter Lili doing her hair, shot in the kitchen mirror. — Alex Cretey Systermans (@alex_cretey_systermans)
 

Lili often jumps up onto the cupboard and sits there. It’s a special moment when all the family gather to prepare dinner. For these last two months of lockdown, the light in the kitchen around 6 or 7 p.m. has been nice every day.

If you can, I would recommend to stop thinking too much (our brain is already busy enough), avoid too much information and experiment as much as possible. It is probably the best moment to test new experiences. For example, shoot those still lifes you’ve wanted to for ages. Recently I have stayed away from the news and spent more time looking at my photo books.

I have a lot of work pending, but as a photographer the only work left to do is at the computer – so I get lazy pretty early! I cherish this time spent so close to my family in lockdown. In normal circumstances I am often travelling.
 
 

At the corner of Jeanne–Mance and St. Viateur streets. — Mickaël Bandassak (@mickaelbandassak)
 

On my way back from a walk around the block, I saw this fire truck in front of my building. The kids across the street were all staring from inside their apartments, parents guarding their porches. Then this kid stood there, behind the fire marshall as if he was supervising the whole situation.

I’m inspired by all the acts of selflessness, like the Montreal Restaurant Workers Relief Fund (@mtlrwrf) that a friend helped launch. And I have been baking a lot – it is the only thing that gives me a sense of achievement these days.
 
 

A delivery worker drops off an order near my apartment in the Clinton Hill neighbourhood. — Brian Ferry (@brianwferry)
 

Restaurant delivery in NYC takes on special significance during this pandemic, while almost all businesses are shuttered and people are staying at home. I can’t help but notice the courage of people whose jobs are considered essential services – like this delivery guy – many of whom are risking their health.

I’m keeping busy by watching lots of independent and classic films on The Criterion Channel. Tonight, it’s Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s The Marriage of Maria Braun.
 
 

A wildfire recently tore through the upper valley where I frequently go to fly–fish. On my way back to the river I snapped this shot of the charred remains of a tree. — Joel Clifton (@The_clifton_joel)
 

I’ve been through a few phases so far and each day is emotionally different, but getting out and exploring the hills around my new home on the west coast has been a constant. I moved here from Toronto in the fall, and the wilderness that I now have access to, basically my backyard, is keeping me busy, happy and inspired. I’m really thankful for it.
 
 

My fiancé digging into a home–cooked Lebanese meal in our kitchen. — Christie Vuong (@christievuong)
 

It’s really wonderful to see everyone at home cooking more and rediscovering the dishes that have been important to their pasts, or exploring parts of their culinary culture they haven’t had the time to before.

Family and food are inseparable in Lebanese culture, partly because it usually takes a whole family to prepare a proper Arabic feast, but mainly because sharing food with loved ones is central to Lebanese culture. Since my fiancé can’t be with his family, cooking this food brings us both closer to the ones that are missing from our lives, and reminds us to cherish past family gatherings, and those to come in our future.
 
 

This is a photo of lower Manhattan taken from Brooklyn near Brooklyn Bridge. A rainy and gloomy Sunday walk with my girlfriend revealed this eerily quiet scene of the city. — Edwin Tse (@edwintsephoto)
 

This is a view of lower Manhattan that many photographers – professional, semi–professional and tourist alike – capture on any beautiful day, especially at sunset. But I was inspired by a moment when few people even want to venture out, let alone photograph. I like moody scenes, and quiet, and felt like this captured the mood of the city as it’s been recently. Beauty and inspiration are always out there – sometimes you just have to look a bit deeper to find them.
 
 

Suburban dusk. — Farihah Shah (@rihah)
 

At the end of a grey Sunday we were treated to a spectacular sunset right before iftar (breaking fast for Ramadan). It reminded me of when I was a kid and had to be home before the streetlights came on. This scene for me was equal parts calm and eerie.

I have been doing research, shooting a lot of light and shadow play to pass the time and finding joy in little things. Taking breaks is essential in this process, as well. I feel there can be a need to be over productive but it is important to have balance.
 
 

Crockern Farm. — Nicholas White (@nicholasjrwhite)
 

Crockern Farm is a short walk from my village and sits nestled at the head of a valley where some of Dartmoor’s famous ancient oak woodlands can be found. Usually a very popular walk for tourists at this time of year, there is now an audible silence here.

I’m enjoying springtime and the increased wildlife activity here on the moors. Cuckoos are back and an owl has moved into the woodland opposite. I rarely have this much time at home, as I travel a fair bit for work. I’m finally able to read the books I’ve been neglecting, as well as engage in research for future projects.
 
 

My isolation buddy and husband, Jeremy, furrows his brow while sitting on our snowmobile. — Angela Gzowski (@angelagzowski)
 

This was photographed on Great Slave Lake about an hour before sunset. Spring in Yellowknife looks a little different than the rest of Canada. But hopping on the snowmobile is a great reason to get out of the house, especially during the pandemic. Though we’re still buried in snow, the sun is coming back with a vengeance. These days it doesn’t go down until nearly 10 p.m., which is a nice change from the long, dark winter.

While tulips and cherry blossoms are blooming in southern Canada, the winter can drag you down here, so we’ve learned to embrace the outdoors and enjoy the last weeks of snow. The change of season brings me new life and I know it won’t be long until we’re in the land of the midnight sun again.
 
 

Knokke Beach. — Yuri Andries (@yuriandries)
 

On this day I was allowed to go out for a photo assignment... at the beach! The sun was out and the sky was blue – I felt so privileged.

I rested my eyes on the open plain of the North Sea. A small group of jackdaws were fluttering over the beach. “Where are the seagulls?” I wondered. I thought of the father searching for his family on the overcrowded beach, with four melting ice creams in his hand, licking at each of them.

The water sucked the sand out from under my feet and pulled at my legs. A chill ran up my back to my neck. As the sun set I realized that I forgot my sweater in the car. I took one last picture of sand sneaking over a white fence, then decided to go home.

I’ve taken the time to renew my website and, together with three photographer colleagues from Ghent, launched an online shop for limited edition prints.
 
 

Rue Réaumur. — Daniel Anguiano (@danguianoz)
 

As we are not allowed to do any outdoor sport in Paris between 10 a.m. and 7 p.m., I go for a run every evening, staying within the permitted one–kilometre distance from my home. It’s the only way I can find inspiration during confinement.

Since the lockdown began, many people have taken up running just to have an excuse to go out and not risk being fined by the police – myself included. I make sure to bring my camera with me, to capture moments like this.
 
 

Condos, all lit up. — Ryan Walker (@ryanwalkerphoto)
 

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a night owl. While burning the midnight oil, I sometimes make my way to the quiet streets of Toronto to observe our distant, yet connected, surroundings. Interactions with our cities have changed: no longer can we enjoy the hustle and bustle of a downtown core. Many are confined to small condo and apartment dwellings; they make do with what they have. I sometimes wonder if we will appreciate the natural world that much more once this is all over. This is a humbling experience for humanity.

Being disconnected from the outside world, from nature, can be challenging. To stay motivated (and mentally healthy), I go on long–distance bike rides, leaving behind the rows of skyscrapers for natural surroundings as I venture outside the city.
 
 

Kitchen cleanup. — Lorne Bridgman (@lornebridgman)
 

We typically cook at home, but with every day feeling like a Friday, our meals are turning into multi–hour dinner–dance party mashups. I hate to wake up to a pile of dirty dishes, so these days it’s not unusual to find me scrubbing pots at the edge of midnight.

I’ve been listening to Matt Galloway’s balanced, compassionate and calm verbal response to the current crisis each morning on CBC’s The Current. I continue to work on a photo series of closed playgrounds, and tick a few books off my reading list – most recently, Richard Powers’ The Overstory and now Viktor E. Frankl’s slim but piercing Man’s Search for Meaning.