Target Practice

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Close-Up, Life as it Happens, Macro, People

This 22 rifle belonged to my husband when he was a child. His uncle purchased it for him at a farm auction sale over thirty years ago and he has now passed it on to our son. So Sunday afternoon, we went exploring logging roads on Vancouver Island, where we stopped to set up cans for target practice.

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Entranced by rural and urban decay. I am drawn to these forlorn sites because they emote conflicting sentiments of beauty and disintegration.

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