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Garden Buds, Flowers & Bees (Lens Test)
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This is a shot of some weeds in my neighbor's overgrown backyard. Just the other day he cleaned it up. I wonder why? :)
A desolate sand swept Fallout Santa Monica Pier. Discover the captivating locales of Amazon Prime’s Fallout TV series as Lucy, Maximus, Moldaver, and the dreaded Ghoul vie for the Vault-Tec cold fusion relic. Filmed across various iconic spots in New York and New Jersey, the series brings the post-apocalyptic Los Angeles, California wasteland to life. Here’s a closer look at the real-life locations featured in the show. Let me know in the comments below how much you loved the show. Were you surprised by the New York-centric locations? Episode 1 (“The End”) In a gripping and unforgettable episode, we witness Lucy emerging from the subterranean depths of Vault 33 centuries ahead of schedule, driven by an urgent quest to rescue her father, Hank, the Overseer of Vault 33. This dramatic turn of events follows the brutal infiltration of Vault 32 by Moldaver’s raiders, who cunningly disguised themselves as the already deceased rioting inhabitants of the vault. The story's turmoil begins ...
A former coal-fired power plant in Yonkers sits quietly by the waterfront, its redevelopment ambitions repeatedly running aground against community resistance and logistical hurdles. Once an industrial hub, the site has spent years in limbo, tangled in unrealized visions of transformation and contention with local stakeholders. The most recent development proposal called for a 157,000-square-foot mixed-use office space. However, the Yonkers Planning Board faced strong pushback from residents. Parking became a flashpoint, with the community voicing concerns over how the new project would accommodate vehicles. Efforts by the developer to secure parking access at nearby Trevor Park and the John F. Kennedy Marina were met with such resistance that the plans were scrapped altogether. Adding to the tensions, critics took issue with the property owner's financial contributions to the city. Many residents felt the developer had been avoiding paying a fair share of Yonkers' property tax...
One warm day, J and I set off to explore an old mill he’d discovered some time ago. The place was hidden away and seemed ideal for the kind of photos we loved taking—rustic spaces with that raw, forgotten feel. We entered casually through the front, our cameras ready, aiming to capture as much as we could before moving on to the other buildings. About 20 minutes into our shoot, J’s voice broke the silence. “There’s a white truck out front.” He’d spotted it from the second-floor window. I joined him, snapping a few more pictures along the way, trying to stay calm. We figured maybe it was someone stopping by briefly. But just as I was getting my last shot in, I saw movement at the entrance. A man stepped inside, chatting on the phone. Alarmed, J and I ducked behind a wall, hearts racing. Before we knew it, three more people had joined him—a second man, a woman, and a small dog. We realized, with sinking dread, that it was the property owner, likely giving contractors a tour and get...
I finally made it to the place I had been dreaming about for years. Ever since I found out the substation by the Harlem River was still standing, I had been trying to visit. Every time I came up from Brooklyn, though, the main gate was locked. It had become a routine—checking in once a year, hoping for a change, only to be disappointed. But today was different. Funny enough, I almost didn’t go out at all. I had been putting up with the noise of kids playing next door, and their summer fun was starting to grate on me. I’d had enough of it. I needed to get out of the house, and this time I was determined to see if the gate would finally be open. When I arrived, I started by photographing the building’s exterior. The gate looked like it might still be an issue, but I wanted to document what I could. While I was snapping shots, a guy pulled up on a motorbike. We got to talking about photography and our shared passion for preserving old, forgotten buildings. He told me he’d seen local...
We pulled up the long, curving driveway and stopped at the gate. A black pickup truck was parked off to the side. Uneasy, we backed down the road, trying to decide whether to go through with the mission. We should have. Later, as I reviewed the drone footage, I saw it — an open doorway in the back. I can only assume it led straight into the tire-burning facility. But at the time, it didn’t show up on my controller’s feed. I wish we’d at least circled, and taken a look at the rear of the plant before giving up and heading to another site. That hesitation cost us. If we hadn’t let a parked truck shake our resolve, we could have been the only explorers on the entire East Coast to document one of the last two tire-to-energy plants in the country — the only one in New England. It wasn’t just a massive industrial site; it was the region’s primary solution for handling end-of-life tires, processing countless loads into energy. But we never went back. By the time we worked up the nerve a...
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