Back from Dixie . . . 1,000 miles and more of back road volition, and nearly as many concerted photographs made. Too many days idle in the safe harbor of home, suburbia, white-washed, where privileged politicking rattles like a relentless paradiddle, from a population’s pulpit that never steps into other’s rings . . . or, maybe just to get away from myself?
Maryland, West Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama. Idleness will kill me in the end.
Editing commence.