Okay, I lied. This is in Rochester, taken the Night of Disaster [Bastian's Journal], the night the universe was so set on foiling
I was born in or near Rochester. Don't remember any of it, of course. Echoes without sources. I spent an awful lot of the trip feeling like a ghost; we passed through far too many places that remembered me, drove by far too many towns, in New York or Pennsylvania, whose names trailed cold claws down my back. There are reasons I have not returned. Hundred thousand stars overhead. Further south than Seattle, though, so that the sky was just wrong enough, the circumpolar stars shifted down and over, to make me vaguely uneasy. It was ... eerie. Beautiful. But I was glad for company, even Pooh's thundering snores, to hold me to now.
Okay, this is in Virginia. Bull Run Castle's [corvi's journal] guardian gargoyle.
And inside. [corvi's journal] Ghosts and shadows. I really love this photo - despite getting the colors wrong, the loss of faded blue and gray and the soft, cold, wan sunlight, the mood is just right.
A larger version, because I hate cropping my favorites.
I have a few more pictures of the bridge, very noisy and fogged. A bunch more pictures of inside the castle, which are too dark, and outside the castle, which I'm going to split with