A nice little scene on the outskirts of Plains, Texas.
(When we were little, my mom, sister, and I drove to Plains to meet up with my dad, who was doing some sort of an engineering project over there. My sister was three or four and was very upset when she didn't see PLANES there. And that's how she learned to not always trust what you think you hear.)
One of my earliest memories is of my parents staying up late to process slides in the kitchen. I can still remember the first photograph I took - of a rock, with a mountain in the background. In college, I was almost positive I was going to be the next Ansel Adams.
All of which has led me here.
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