Roads are a record of those who have gone before. ~ Rebecca Solnit, Wanderlust: A History of Walking


What am I doing here? ~ Arthur Rimbaud, writing home from Ethiopia


The open road is a beckoning, a strangeness, a place where a man can lose himself. ~ William Least Heat Moon, Blue Highways, 1982. Preface.


I’m amazed to think how many times I’ve traveled this highway and never considered making it a project. I love places that seem as if time has passed them by.

Even though US 2 is a transcontinental highway, it’s often only two lanes wide, a thin ribbon of road studded with small towns that remain outposts of nostalgia. General stores with faded signs still rent videos; old filling stations are adapted for quirky businesses; ramshackle houses and boarded-up buildings stand in the prevailing winds of decay. And yet, the folks who live there are proud of their history and don’t want to leave.

But change is inevitable. And I feel an urgency to capture what remains of the towns along this highway, where Main Street cuts through a landscape of simple beauty.

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