Within the grey peripheral of the city landscape.
A blur to a passer-by, an eyesore to a resident, an opportunity for appreciation. A flower can be worthy of attention and a lowly crack in the sidewalk can have its own story.
This is a visual discovery of the stories within those cracks: Sifting for fingerprints left by the vacancy of time.
I look at the fragmented flakes of paint on an ancient iron railing and try to imagine what the weather was like on the day when it was freshly painted. What the painter saw when he looked up, his attention being drawn by the commotion of a passing trolley; how the breeze played in the branches overhead that Victorian afternoon...