Who’s Really Reading This?

I checked my site stats today.

123 visits in the past 30 days.

That’s not viral. That’s not “up and coming.”

That’s a trickle. A whisper. A flicker of someone, somewhere, clicking through. Maybe twice.

Most of them were direct hits — not from Instagram, not from YouTube, not even from some poor soul who mistyped “thetravelingphotog.com” while trying to find a camera review. Just… direct.

Like they already knew the address.

And the countries?

China: 80.

U.S.: 24.

Guam: 12.

Then one each from Brazil, Germany, South Africa, Mexico, and somewhere in Bangladesh.

Could be bots. Could be a bored expat. Could be someone hitting refresh on a day I said something that landed.

But still — it made me stop.

Who’s even reading this?

Maybe you’re someone I’ve never met, sitting in a cold apartment, clicking through out of habit.

Maybe you’re a cousin, trying to piece together what I’m doing with my life.

Maybe you’re me — future me — wondering when all of this started to make sense.

Or maybe you’re no one. Just a phantom ping on a data chart.

But I write anyway.

I write because I need to see where the rhythm goes.

Because if I don’t write it, I carry it.

Because when the photos blur and the edits get tedious and the gear lust fades, the words still mean something. To me, at least.

I’ve flown 10 hours and said nothing.

I’ve spent an entire café stop just watching people pass.

And I’ve come home with a full card and no keepers — except the paragraph I scribbled in a hotel notepad at midnight.

So if you are reading this — hi.

If you’re the one from France or Hong Kong or Fresno, thanks for showing up.

If you're just a Google crawler, go easy on the bounce rate.

And if you’re not here — yet —

I’m still writing like you are.

I checked my YouTube Studio, too.

2.4K views.

13.9 watch hours.

Top video? A Nikon Zf portrait shoot — 1.5K views and climbing.

But then there’s that quiet drop — minus 6 subscribers.

No comments. No fanfare. Just numbers shifting in the dark.

It makes me wonder the same thing:

Who’s even watching this?

Still, I keep uploading.

I keep writing.

Because someone out there clicked “play.”

And someone else, maybe, stayed for 2 minutes and 17 seconds longer than they meant to.

Maybe they’ll never subscribe. Maybe they already left.

But in that moment, we shared something.

And that’s all this is, really —

A trail of breadcrumbs in the noise.