My Sycamore.

This Summer they began tearing down Sycamore, at least that's what it has felt like to my overly sensitive heart.  What I mean by this is they are tearing down my Sycamore, the backdrop of my childhood.  My fathers' Sycamore is long gone, and my grandmothers' was torn down before even that.  Around eight years …

A Trail of Pictures (Week 1 – FMMF).

I am sitting in the photo lab scanning in all of my negatives from the film photography class I took last Fall and feeling a bit angry with myself for not doing it weekly as I shot/developed the pictures.  That being said, it's been pretty interesting rummaging, frame by frame, through last semester.  Right now, in this …