A dark house on an arbitrary plot of land on the plains of Nebraska sits silently as cars and trucks drive by in whirring monotonous drones of pistons pushing multi-colored cages inhabited by blank nodding faces unknown. Its black-lidded eaves droop over empty windows staring with dead eyes.
I’m walking along an aged fence stumbling through tussocks of bladed grass.
No cars stop to pull in the driveway to grind the relentless weeds beneath the wheel.
No dog is barking as I walk up unasked for.
Only the crunch of gravel meets my step as my eyes make contact with the clouds.
I line up the horizon in my viewfinder, press the square button that opens the shutter that gathers light and captures a moment as the streams of change flow steadily around it carrying only fragments of the photograph over time until this moment too is dissolved into the canyonlands of time.