The borderlands in far West Texas become a little poorer every day. That is strange given the amount of commerce that passes along the highways to and from Mexico. In some measure this is the result of the politics of division practiced in the United States. Small areas around the major border crossings and the maquiladoras flourish. The rest of the border is an economic desert fit only for the tit-for-tat of smugglers and authorities.
The old man with the cane was slow but moving forward speaking to passersby as he walked. He seemed to have no complaints.
This is a photo that I reinterpret from time to time. A black and white image derived from the same digital raw file was posted here some time ago. Each image is unique and together they represent a body of work based upon a single photograph.
Sometimes it is hard to remember the world of just a few months ago. Now we are living in a world of alt facts, alt world view and most certainly alt reality.
“I was thinking, which is a thing a man should not do, and all at once I couldn’t remember what any of them looked like. I, I couldn’t see their faces” – Major Stovall: Twelve O’Clock High