Prior to getting into photography, I didn’t really appreciate junk. But now, oh now; things are different. There is nothing that I love more than the burned out, rusted in, toppled over, crumbling down, peeling onto, smashed under feel good scratch and sniff goodness of a desolate pile of junk. I wish Westerners weren’t so damn territorial about their junk. I won’t sue you if I impale my foot with a rusty nail, I promise. It isn’t your fault that your junk is so damn beautiful. But alas, sometimes I just have to admire your junk at 65mph.
by stevez
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