It is a monotony that wears heavy in a relentless lazy way. This winter is leaving its mark in my memory, it will be one that I measure future seasons against. At every turn the landscape is piled high with temporary white hills, distorted under the weight of the frozen rain. I am impatient at the calendar to turn over toward the upcoming thaw.Where I Stand Sunday is an ongoing photo essay examining the different places I spend my life standing. Too often we take for granted the everyday places we spend our lives walking on. The ground we tread on has its own stories to tell.
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