A suitcase is the ultimate symbol for travelling. And that’s just what we did. We took that aluminum case and took off.

Over a period of two years, we traveled from Europe to India, embarked on trips to Svalbard, Rio de Janeiro, and Namibia. In Japan, we immersed ourselves in blue steam baths and, in Isan, northern Thailand, witnessed rockets being launched to the rain gods. We landed on a sailboat, floated over the Alps in a hot air balloon, and cruised the Laccadive Sea on junks. In the southwestern United States, we crossed the line into fiction. And at the end of the world, in the far south of Chile, we met Mr. Cape Horn.

Despite all algorithms and AI, the allure of travel remains undiminished. The genuine experience. The real world out there. The suitcase therefore wasn't just a piece of luggage, but a silent protagonist. A companion in the true sense. It was meant to get a few dents, scratches, and scrapes. That's part of traveling.

In the photos, however, the suitcase rarely plays the leading role. Instead, it appears on the periphery. As a footnote. As an observer, rolling through world with open eyes. The stories we wanted to bring home are all authentic. They tell of the changing Arctic and report from Nairobi's orphanages. In Rio, we met the bossa nova guitarists of Copacabana, in Kerala the palm climbers of Cochin. To retrieve "Queen Coconut" from 30-meter-high trees, they risk their lives.

All that was precisely the idea. To travel and observe. To travel and experience. To expose ourselves to the world’s foreign seas. With the camera. With our gut and our hearts. As Einstein once said: "The fish will be the last to discover water."