
Given my oft stated aim to capture all things urban, decaying or wasting/ed, and out on the borderlands of the current Western malady (margins, margins people, those double-damned post- post- modern margins), my reflections are rarely pastoral in any 19th-century
Turner-esque sense,or Keatsian manner..
A rain puddle here and there reflecting the appropriately scummy surface reality of some vital socio-cultural marker will do quite nicely. (Yes, yes, of course I am taking the piss out of me, nothing more . . . please no cards, letters, or emails!).
This is old Vern's Chevy out in the back parking lot, by the way.
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