Washed out gray this morning. I drove to work and remembered the rain soaked train ride from Zurich and Kleine Schideigg. Dark skies, white jagged mountains green small villages tucked near the summit. Soaked through to skin. My camera waterlogged inside my bag. Everything cold and wet. One roll of underexposed slide film shot. Those weeks drew a map from Switzerland to Germany to Austria to Czech to a small England town. From a little house at the bottom of the hill, where plastic swords and scrapbooks made up so much of any given day.
