Bennett Carnahan

On a deliciously bleak autumn afternoon, my wife and I walked down to the small rail-yard near the center of our town. It seems to me that there is no piece of modern machinery so readily romanticized as the train, and we spent several happy hours wandering across the...

At one time we lived on a less-than-manicured street in a less-than-sturdy birdhouse of an apartment. The lot next to us was occupied by a condemned house, a reclusive vagrant, an army of squirrels, and an abandoned tub. I have always been fascinated by the clash of...