This is the fence on the backside of a storage area of some small workshop. What struck me was the contrast between the tender filligree of the flowers and the almost brutal reality behind the fence. I feel some deeper truth about the soul here, and besides, it’s our own choice, which side we’re on.
I suppose you know those places. Places you pass by so often, frequently thinking you should stop the car and take a photo, but you always drive on, because there’s no place to stop.
This was made in such a place, a shed on a patch of land between a highway exit, the highway, the big street that the highway exits into, and … the small street that I took today and where I finally was able to stop and park the car. It’s a strange place, a remnant of the past between all those new traffic lanes. An anachronism, almost as unreachable as the past of our memories. Almost.