There was a time when nearly every weekend found me exploring the places where I grew up. I would leave the city behind, get in my car, turn onto unmarked side roads, and keep driving as far as the weather and common sense would allow.
Dirt roads rarely lead anywhere in particular. Sometimes they connect small villages, sometimes they follow the edge of a forest, and sometimes they simply disappear into the grass.
But as you roll forward, there is always a feeling that something interesting must be waiting just ahead.
I took these shots on one of those journeys. A storm was gathering on the horizon. The rain was close, yet sunlight still bathed the fields. I stopped only because two perfectly straight tracks cut through the vast landscape, leading directly toward the darkening clouds. There was nothing unnecessary in that scene.
Ten minutes later, the downpour began. I managed only a few frames before getting back behind the wheel. Many years have passed since then, yet this brief moment still returns to me more often than many longer journeys.
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