If I ever have grandchildren and if those grandchildren are willing to sit down beside me, on whatever we are using for a couch 40 years from now, to look at my photographs - they might be curious.
"Where are all the pictures of you and your friends," they might ask.
"They are here with me in this picture," I would tell them, "see the words on that sign are kinda funny and they make me think of my ridiculous friend Anderson..."
"And that crumbling wall with the gnarly, bent rebar, in there is my buddy Edwin who made these tragic paintings of tortured souls..."
"And here I am in this picture, really. There in the bottom right corner you can see my shadow. It is just my torso and my head is cut off in it but that really is me. Whats wrong with you kids anyhow? Has no one taught you about the epic beauty in a crumbling concrete plant?!"