All along the S-weed walk I have been picking up little items of trash from the ground - contributing my share to the poetic genres of found objects. Like the flowers and weeds, they fit nicely on the scanner and take kindly to the transformation into screen graphics. There are subdued stories in them, comments on what I see of life around me when I walk in my suburban neighbourhood with eyes persistently to the ground. Not people, but candywrappers they have left to the winds, bottles they have broken. Parking receipts. Artificial flowers. Kid stuff. A bit squeamish I avoid the stickier things. Drawing the limit at a SMALL amount of dirt. Ah yes. Drawing limits...
This could also be a starting point.
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