The Road Diaries

by Kevin Carrel Footer Subscribe

The Chapel in the Signal Box

I chanced upon this signal box behind a truckstop in Kingman, Arizona where we spent the night. I woke early and walked between the trucks as the sun came up over the desert. Truckers in overalls emerged groggy from their cabs, each carrying a wide-mouth thermos...

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Beyond the West

After the West begins the Beyond, a place of inscrutable intentions and cross-purposes that blow you off-course like the gusts over Altamont Pass, where contraptions of precarious beauty born of human hubris float like effigies on the once-pristine hills now stained...

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Truckstops of the Sublime

There are truckstops of such sublime, searing beauty. I took this picture from a patch of dirt off to the side. This is the overflow lot where a few diesel trucks had parked to get their statutory rest, away from the noise of the semis downshifting from freeway speed...

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To Write and to Explore

By Kevin Carrel Footer COBSCOOK BAY, MAINE – I have always been about exploring: the big house, my dad's locked closet, a woman's body, the backroads of this world, myself. The great explorers of the New World, of the Artics? They have nothing on me. This morning I...

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The Poetry of All Things

by Kevin Carrel Footer Walking, I chanced upon this beach scene: a wooden spool, a stripped branch, an eroding cliff. It fascinated me, these leavings of nature and man. They had been gathered by tides in that beach-end, then placed by mankind (except the cliff which...

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Clouds and Shadows

Clouds and Shadows

by Kevin Carrel Footer Walking, I chanced upon this beach scene: a wooden spool, a stripped branch, an eroding cliff. It fascinated me, these leavings of nature and man. They had been gathered by tides in that beach-end, then placed by mankind (except the cliff which...

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Nothing is Everything

By Kevin Carrel Footer The afternoon is bright. There are a few creampuff clouds in the sky – isolated, pristine, sovereign – and trailing them dark stains on the water’s surface. Above, they are all majesty and pomp; below, they are a flat discoloration on a muddy...

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The Cowboy Hat and the Tango Shoes

By Kevin Carrel Footer Nothing, in spite of its bad press, is quite something – especially when compared to the alternatives. So many of the things that press around us filling our time and space are so bland and pointless that emptiness becomes a refuge. Emptiness at...

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The World as a Walk

by Kevin Carrel Footer Thirty or so years ago, I met a man in California who offered to teach me to ride horses. This had been an abiding desire of mine, so I jumped at the offer. The next Saturday I was out at his place ready to ride. He lived in a house he had built...

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Magnificent Muses

by Kevin Carrel Footer I am trying out a new theory on the streets of Buenos Aires. When walking through the most congested parts of town, where the crowds mill and pamphleteers prosper and hawkers hawk, I just let go. I don’t resist the flow of the crowd nor try to...

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