Elvis has left the building.

Having spent three winters in Middle America, the thought of heading back West is a joyous one. Despite an abundance of photographic material in a place I came to refer to as Middle Earth, I have never felt a connection to the place. For the first time since moving to the States, I felt like a foreigner, especially when locals have no idea where I am from. But then again, why should they? Unlike the West, I doubt there will be any calling to return, despite the joy of zipping around and photographing old barns and rusty wrecks.

How I came to be here is still a mystery and a day has not passed when I didn't ask myself, what am I doing here? Despite this, I have amassed more photographic work here than anywhere else. No matter where you are, there will always be something to photograph, even if it's just to say I was here or I was there.

The image above was made on the day of my arrival in middle America, and I took it as a sign of hope. Sadly, there was none, and Elvis has definitely left the building, as have I.