One day, while I was trying to track down a crowing rooster in Ras Beirut, I bumbled my way into an amazing car, a rusted out, broken down beauty of a car. Owen, who blogs beautifully from France, might call even call it a dream car, though I'm not sure it qualifies.
On that rooster-chasing day, this enormous blue beater was all alone and it looked quite solitary and very nearly poetic beneath that huge spray of palm fronds. I snapped a quick photo before walking on, only to discover later that a big smear on my lens had obscured the image. I've passed by often since then to give it another try, only to find time and again that the rusted out beauty had been parked in, blocked by other cars. I was waiting for a clear shot, hoping to be lucky enough to find it alone again.
But I haven't. Instead I've learned that the truth of this car is that the lonely circumstances in which I first saw it were false. The truth is that this car is always in company; good, bad, and otherwise. Here it is quite elegantly book-ended, silver beauties of one kind and another on either side.