When I was 17, I lost a Wal-Mart photo print pickup slip from a trip to Chicago. I had a couple other rolls processed in hand so it’s not like I was lying so the woman shuffled through strangers’ pictures looking for Chicago, a grungy teen deep dish tall buildings dirty hostel, um, the El, House of Blues, no I don’t remember what else was happening when the finger punched the shutter. Just stuff. Things. “Did you take pictures of garbage?”
Um. Yes. Yes, I did.
The pile outside my window has been growing all week, crazy overflowing Vancouver strike caliber and I wonder what the hell quelling the urge the past couple of days to run outside and take pictures of trash. I can’t help myself. I don’t really want to.
This morning I gave in. A couple hours later Dick’s Sanitation arrived.