Death Becomes Her

Fort Pickens, Pensacola Beach is a  hauntingly interesting place. I was there recently. It's mostly underground, with mysterious hallways and arches everywhere. It's glaringly sunny outside and dark and musty inside. I felt like Geronimo's ghost was following me around, pointing out interesting things to shoot. The way the light came screaming into the small window in a photo, with that glow that comes out in "bad" pictures, inspired me to do the following:

I view death as a solitary trip we all eventually take (even if there's a bus full of us gone over a cliff), but that we have plenty of company on the other side.