You share your pictures. You want others to share your experiences, to get into their memories the images you carry, images suffused with all that struck your senses as you snapped the photos. You know it’s impossible to share everything. After all, wasn’t the experience yours alone? Yet, you have this desire to share place as you experienced it.
Why?
Is your motivation a deep love of the planet regardless of its hardships? Do you believe you have discovered a planet or a place no one else has seen? Is it a deep love of others that drives you to share? Is your sharing a gift, possibly one imposed on those who might not see the world as you see it?
No one, of course, can experience exactly what you experience in any place. Yet, you seem to have this desire to overcome separation from others, to join with them somehow through images. You might even add sound and movement: A video. But what to do with touch, smell, and taste? “Look and listen!” is all you can say.
Those travel pictures connect you and place to others in a limited way, but they do overcome complete separation. You find joy in a place, and you want to share; you find wonder. You find renewal. “Come,” you say, “you have to experience this.”
And the pictures? They are an attempt to make the impermanent permanent. Someday long after you are gone, someone might find those images, look them over briefly, and maybe experience partially what you experienced. Those images with all their associated sensations that currently run down axons in your brain will be at least partially preserved in someone else’s brain, a brain separated not only by space, but also by time. You will have overcome the wide separation by partly sharing place.