I live with my wife, Karla, and my newborn son, Nahuel, in a barrio nestled in the folds of Ilalo, an extinct volcano, which rests in the center of a valley near Quito, Ecuador. How the hell did I end up here? That’s a question I used to ask myself daily.

There we were, so different, a California surfer kid and an Ecuadorian girl from a conservative family. Shortly after we met we were knocking over trays and bottles as we made out under the dim red lights of the darkroom, hiding from professors and photo students. After being separated for months on internships we found ourselves at Burning Man, naked and painted, running through the desert shooting Provia slide film.