Photography and text: Corey Amaro
Our bags are packed.
Tickets in hand.
But not ready to go.
While driving on the back roads I snapped photos out of the window.
October is Willows fails to disappoint:
The harvest, the golden hue, the open spaces to stand in awe.
Sunsets.
Going home.
Feeling at home.
It is all the same.
I heard somewhere that the place where one lives when they are around twelve years old has a lasting impression on ones visual concept of home.
Old barns.
Dairies,
Pick up trucks,
Rice fields.
Children come and go.
Do you live in the same place where you were born?
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