The gods of Nikon finally returned my camera to me in working order.

Yesterday I rode down the Fremont hill, through what's left of old inner Albina, and down to the Esplanade, to meet my brother for a night of drinking. With the camera. I was late to meet him, of course, and I could tell he was wishing that he'd hijacked the plane that the camera was shipped back on and flown it into the ocean.

The graffiti shots are dedicated to Marcia Dennis and the City of Portland Grafitti Abatement Program's losing battle against the raucous soul of their own city.