Sometimes I walk a mile and take a dozen photos. Sometimes I walk a dozen miles and take one photo. This weekend was more of the latter than the former. I walked 17 miles on Saturday—“why?” is sort of the why—and I think I took one photo of the dam at White Rock and that was about it. I was connected with my surroundings, but I didn’t really feel the need to document. Or maybe I just didn’t see anything worth storing anywhere other than my brain. It happens. It can be better when it does.