Impulsive Images
Out in the county, small streams freeze over trapping rocks in an embrace of ice. At twilight the world sighs. Here, on these quiet back roads life holds a thousand mysteries. Stopping along a small bridge I walk to the north to discover a dog had died there without ceremony. It's head was covered in leaves, the body in decay. I thought of the owners, if she or she had owners. When a dog is lost or dies, there is grief and longing. I made a few pictures, but I am not sure why, because I can't imagine ever showing them.
Photography is impulse.
