A photograph + some words every day. Or until I get bored.

2:13am. McGuinness Ave, Brooklyn

I dig the wood. I read the engravings and examine the bullets. I cock the hammers. “Rabbit ears,” my father says.

If snow was black, I’d wear black clothes, I’d wear black shades…

Pumpjacks, wind farms, grain silos, rotting boxcars, and drowsy cattle march across the neverending Kansas plains.

Somewhere in the middle of the night in America, I sit in my blue rental car in a 24-hour fast food parking lot…

Everything is for sale in Istanbul. It’s like Canal Street on steroids. There’s a whole neighborhood filled with hardware on folding tables…