I want to drive through the small Texas towns, stopping to capture all the shuttered railroad stops and drugstores. Finding grand old homes on dust burnt corners- walking the abandoned grounds to capture images of slender, wavy glass holding shadows of a long ago occupant. I want to capture beds of iris, once common, but now with roots so thick they are called heritage- their flowers no longer bloom, but given proper space would again shout with color. There will be ancient oaks groaning against the earth and finding support from abandoned metal roofs. White, maroon and pink crepe myrtles reaching raggedly toward the sun that beats their edges to a crisp, whilst flowers within the canopy still mist the memories held within the abandoned and shuttered past.