“Well, I keep seeing this stuff and it just comes a-rolling in/And you know it blows right through me like a ball and chain…” Bob Dylan said that. Apparently it is a Bob Dylan kinda day. Mostly I take pictures of people running; mostly I do it on the trails and in the high country. Sometimes I go to the high sage desert or some  flat land mirage. But sometimes all I can see are  the people who are not there. The empty seats and the overgrown grass, the listing fences and rolling clouds speak to me of spring time goin’ summer somewhere else, the next generation of the ‘boys of summer’ finding another “field of dreams” on which to slide toward old age. A dyin’ stadium is filled with ghosts and some mornings they are my only companions on the early morning run into the sunrise. I stop sometimes and listen close. I pretend to hear the hot dog vendors and smell the popcorn but mostly I just keep runnin’ because the ghosts aren’t out there, are they, and they aren’t waitin’ around. It ain’t sad and Lord knows it ain’t lonely come sunrise out here, it’s just another day on the road to wherever it is I am goin’.

Photograph by Michael Lebowitz ©2012