Along the sweeping curves of California’s Palms to Pines Highway, above the expanse of the Coachella Valley, my eye was captured by the tiny, static light emitter that was a parked car in a turnout. When the long exposure had converted every other vehicle to a ghostly stream, stillness mean detail—enough detail to start imagining noir-tinged stories about clandestine desert meetings. (I’m pretty sure the reality is more mundane…)
Decaseconds 