shot with the lomo, near downtown Portland
After four years in Portland, I have finally adjusted to the light. The gray skies and long months of rain feel natural - nourishing, even. This year was the first winter I did not linger a little too long beside a bridge rail or dream about disappearing into the desert.
But even as my mood begins to change, my body fights harder against this landscape - my skin and sinuses reacting to mold and pollen more intensely than ever before. I am literally sick from this city.
Which brings me to these rails - one covered in mold and moss, the other gleaming clean in the sunshine. Do these parallels intersect somewhere deep?