My brown sandals hit the pavement stirring up some gravel and leaves as I turn into an alley. The sun is warm on my skin. Keeping my head down and watching the ground I observe the images my shadow casts upon walls and trash bins.
The potholes intrigue me more than they would most people. I love the idea of taking pictures of the cracks in the pavement. Somehow I yearn for imperfection, I think in a way that imperfection is really the only kind of perfection.
The patter of rubber on pavement stops momentarily as I pause for traffic before crossing into another alley way. The sun isn't able to shine through the thick walls of businesses and the canopies of the green trees.
