I have this thing about pictures.

I love photographs. One of my very best friends is a photographer and several pals are, too. For a moment in college, photography seemed like a good fit...except I couldn't remember f-stops, processing times...little things.  

Still, captured, crafted, hand-made, swirling images dominate my thoughts and memories.  Sounds, smells, tastes, and movement play a rich Greek chorus in my remembering, but scenes - visuals - take the lead. 

That's probably why I hauled three giant tubs of photographs to Georgia- even after sorting and weeding them out before we sold the house. I'm now down to the equivalent of one tub of photographs. It was a painful sorting process.

You'll find books of photographs or illustrations of people I don't know from era's before I arrived on the planet.  Photographs and illustrations of or by my kids.  Black and white photographs.  Kodachrome.  Infrared.  Iconic. Tiny. Obscure subjects in pen, ink, crayon. 

Abandoned people.  Nature.  Books.  Communities.