The survival of the discarded was a subject I could not leave. Everywhere are discarded objects, places and people; things nobody has the inclination to fix or care for. My dog is a rescued greyhound. When he no longer won races, he was left to starve, not even worth a bullet to put him out of his misery. The parking garage behind my apartments are too small for today's monster trucks and SUV's and so they've become caves of ivy. A torn sheet of cardboard is found under a condemned underpass and is held up to become a map of America.