Nothing beats the beauty of the southern Missouri hills in the late afternoon light of an early spring. The velvet of the view glistening on the palm of my eye.
But the beauty, it has strange fruits: in the hamlet of Hartville, the sign welcoming into town with an American flag and a Confederate flag, like sisters.
We made it back to the circus and life on the road for a few days, and back again, and I made it back into my candy store of photography. There is something about the circus that won’t let go of my imagination. It is nothing exotic; for us it was daily life for years and its routine still is. It may be the heart at the bottom of it, like a twin to mine.
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