The pooled apples from my previous journal entry are invisibly present here in the small lake (see center right) within the large lake. Reaching the bottom is no small feat, as nobody actually has any business climbing around the area.

I am trying to collect a lot of photographs in order to turn them into a series on my favourite hometown quarry, which is located in the fields by my house. I first went inside (through a small tunnel which I was obviously convinced was entirely my secret) during elementary school in order to collect rose quartz and race down gravel hills. I love the traveling swamps and terrifying machinery and overgrown canyons. I visit it every half year or so, and every time it manages to look different. Today the deep canyon is filled with water, tomorrow it is shallow and dry. The quarry constantly shrinks and grows beyond the railway tracks.

The photograph above shows a part of the quarry during late summer late evening light. Its right walls are lined with a string of trees, which grow right at its steep edge. During winter time, the trees' branches are caked in frost and incredibly white against the turquoise or yellow glow of the canyon below.