I took this picture in one of the little towns on the way to San Diego a few weeks...and the strong overhead light captured my eye. The old Dodge, the white iron gate. All seemed to belong to a different era. When we pulled off the highway, we saw a garage that said in '50's script "Harry and Son Garage". The signs were all worn and faded from the sun. It reminds me of another picture I took years ago in New York City; a girl sitting on an iron park chair with her feet propped up on an antiquated turquoise suitcase captured my attention and lens. She had a straw cowboy hat on (before they became popular as they are now) and she seemed not to care where she was going, just that she was there, in the present, in Bryant Park underneath the flickering shade of the leafy, summer trees. I love to imagine what the stories are from these places, and what makes these people who they are and how they got there. From this town, we also went in to a Mexican food cafe. The counter was long white Formica and the swirlable stools were fixed in the raised platform. As we attempted to use their bathroom, I felt like I was invading another story. All along the way in your life you will encounter these stories. Its just a matter of "reading" them-- that is with your imagination