Snow is a rare white creature of stealth and surprise in Eugene, especially so
early in the year. I bundled up like a well-endowed Michelin tire man and ventured out into the strangely decorated air. I took my camera to record the familiar sites of my daily walk made formal in tuxedo black and white.
Be forewarned: this is just a two minute slideshow of my little corner of the tumultuous world. Nothing happens, and that’s just fine with me after a week of two violent public attacks by crazed young men with too many guns: the Clackamas Mall shooting and the almost unbearable Newton Massacre of the Innocents.
I seek refuge in the quotidian, the local, the quiet.
