Is there such a thing as fate? Could it be that some things are put in front of our eyes for a reason—that, through them, we might learn something vital to our being? If there is, what sort of control do we have over this, if any at all? Are some of the things that have crossed our paths by chance not by chance at all?

These things in particular —things that were once thriving and full of life, but have fallen because of their frailty in comparison with the rest of their environment—captivate me in such a way that I cannot not pass them by. Upon coming across these things, I feel a strange sort of urgency to rescue them, despite their state of uselessness—to immortalize them in photograph.

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Dear inhabitants of the abandoned,

You exist in a seemingly indestructible reality—much like the many aspects of culture that we, as humans, use to notate status and stability. Life rooted in materiality is fragile, and possessions impermanent. With even our tightest of grasps, and strongest of walls, how easily it can all disappear.