There are always things in places where they don’t really belong. Take this pear for example, left half eaten on a Lake Superior shore of an old copper smelting factory. No person for miles that could have left it there, yet it looked fresh. Not even a few hours old. Just sitting perched on the edge of a sandstone wall. How did it get there, who left it and why. It doesn’t belong but it still is. This is an ode to the things that seem out-of-place, the lone person you see standing in a moving crowd, a child’s shoe in the middle of a market place, all of the things that stand out like something colored in a world of greys, notice them before they all disappear into the ordinary.