I used to drive across the Continental Avenue bridge quite often back when I was a courier in Dallas. Now it is a unique park with fountains and benches and yoga classes and lots of room to ride. It’s called the Ronald Kirk Bridge now.
I hope that fifty years from now these girls will be just like the women they just passed. What a gift to have a lifelong friend.
I snapped this shot just outside of Atocha Station in Madrid, and didn’t notice the women in the background until later.
The windows were grimy and the weathered boards hadn’t seen paint in decades.
I thought the place was deserted. The windows were grimy and the weathered boards hadn’t seen paint in decades. But the sign said it was open. Inside, saddles lined the wall and harnesses and bridles dangled from pegs. John was in the workshop in back. He was friendly enough, but I was from out of town. He had grown up in the trade, learning firsthand from his dad, and knew just about everyone in the area who had ever climbed up onto a saddle.
One of his ancestors had written about the local history in the mid 1800’s and John was hoping to get it in print. His roots ran long and deep in northeast Kansas. I was just passing through. I offered to send him a print, but he didn’t seem too interested.