Tall, golden strands of grass brushed up against the wood of the ancient building she faced. At some point the planks might have been painted a pristine white but years had washed away the color, leaving behind the sad story of time that only wood can tell.
Erin gently placed her camera on the tripod and she directed the lens toward the dilapidated structure that stood alone in the abandoned fields. She wondered if her film could capture the glorious tales of the past she could envision with her imagination. What bountiful harvests came through the double doors out front? Which massive machines were housed there during the height of production when farm hands gathered to bring in the crops on time? If a picture is worth a thousand words, she’d have a novel full by the end of the evening.