Loaded up the truck and headed north with Lamont. Abandoned hotels, 1800s schoolhouses, a barn door opened ten thousand times by hands that are all gone now. This is what I chase.
I stopped for gas in Flagstaff. Rain coming down. A man on a bench who wasn't trying to perform sadness — just too exhausted to hide it. I saw what most of us drive past.
300 shots from a protest at a Phoenix mosque. One photo of one little girl changed everything — and led me back through the front door with a print in my hand