erica farjo photography


The rail barns at the former train yard. These are such strange structures to be in after dark.  There is an abandoned train car in one of them that just sits there like a mountain, vines growing in and out of what used to be its windows. It has been tagged and stripped of any former features but it still looks imposing in the moonlight.  

Atlanta, GA


I can’t really think of a reason why I’d never visited Joshua Tree National Park before May of this year.  I’ve lived here, more or less, my whole life and had always intended to go but just never turned that plan into action. 

  Driving home from a family trip to Palm Springs, I leaned over and said to my husband, “lets take the turn off to Joshua Tree."    So we did.   It was blazing hot outside, the thermometer reading on the car was 108 at one point along the drive.  It was much further down Highway 62 than it looked on the map. We just kept winding and winding through Twenty Nine Palms and into and out of tiny towns that looked like insects set in amber, they were so old fashioned, it could have still been the era of Billy the Kid (with the exception of the occasional Subway & Starbucks).   Once we entered the actual park there was no other life form visible or evident, save for the few, infrequent passing cars. It was so quiet, that it seemed strangely loud.    At one point we stood high over a deep valley that looks down into the belly of one of the largest stretches of the San Andreas fault line. Looking far down into the Earth from up there, it didn’t seem like it would ever be capable of movement.   We drove and stopped for hours, until the sun began to set.