THISMANSTRASHISANOTHERMANSTREASURE The rusting mass sat entombed in a mass of rust, and I saw the shot in a fleeting moment as the coach took me ever onward to a company team-bonding day out at a theme park. Resting my forehead on the window, wearily not caring about the shuddering vibrations from the engine through the cold glass, I thought about taking the shot. It took me several months from first seeing it, to actually go back with my camera, in which time, the scene had changed, but not drastically; the shot was still the shot. I took it. A few others for good measure and exposure / composition insurance. I left, went back to the car, parked at the fast food restaurant next door, thinking of that machine digging it's own grave. I was with Sally, both when I saw the shot the first time, and when I went back. It seems a lot of my memories have her in somewhere. That's good, and yet, not, it reminds me of now. We didn't get any fast food, we just left. J.