Even at my age, I find that I’m often dreaming–not those fantasies about weird or illogical things, but dreaming, nonetheless. My kind of dreaming is just getting wrapped up in the small things around me–the things most people just ignore, deliberately or by default.

When I see a butterfly, I don’t just say “oooh, pretty,” before snapping a photo. I sort of go into his world, and become engrossed in all things butterfly. If I see a simple park bench, I imagine all the people that have sat there, whiling away the hours. If I’m lucky enough to end up in a place with history, not only do I go back in time to envision the life the place once held, but I also become obsessed in researching it when I get back to the “real world.”

This dreaming is one reason I seem to take a LOT of photos of particular subjects–and why I capture subjects that won’t even interest many people. It’s because I’m dreaming–about mushrooms, bugs, rocks…even dirt. It’s just how I operate.