That bench/wall/chunk of concrete probably means nothing to you, but it means everything to me. I can't even speculate how many hours I spent sitting there waiting for family when I was young. Of course in my memories that bottom part is filled with rippling water and the sculpture's panels are spinning in the wind, but that location is very much burned into my head.

I haven't posted too much about this but I spent about a week in Washington DC last week which was something I've been wanting to do for a few years now. When I say "in Washington DC" what I really mean is "in the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum." I was born in Washington DC and lived in neighboring counties for many years as a kid and even after half my family moved away when I'd visit the other half I always ended up there. Countless days I'd spend wandering around in there looking at every detail of every display, and eating stupid amounts of freeze dried ice cream. It's funny, that museum feels so much like a childhood home - maybe more so than places I actually lived. Maybe because it was always fun, and always dream-world like. The houses where I lived then and the back and forth between divorcing parents was the antithesis of fun. The Air and Space Museum was my escape.

So, having not been to DC in almost 20 years, spending a day walking through that building was everything I wanted it to be. Lots of soul searching crossed off the todo list.

Rest of my Air and Space Museum photos here, and my entire Washington DC photo set is here (which includes tons of train/subway photos because damn, that's spacey!