The old factory had long since been picked clean... all that remained were smoke stacks and towers. Sometime ago it became art. This is what is born from ruins. I remember my first dance with the first girl to break my heart.. Our foreheads touching...one last gesture of innocence... In an antique store in Louisville, Kentucky, I found a picture of a surveyor on the banks of the Ohio... the black and white picture had yellowed from the decades-- but he was focused, locked in on some by gone present.