On our way to the Feed Store, Matthew took a series of pictures on my phone. He wanted to capture this plant. When I noticed it on the horizon, I said, “this place looks crazy at night.” I’m not even sure of what they produce there, but the difference in landscape is always striking, night or day. I find it cute that he took this picture. He doesn’t really use technology. He really only has his flip phone. He felt the impulse to take the picture, though, something I feel often: someone needs to capture this. I think about all the documenting I’ve done in my life. While we were in Williston, North Dakota, I got a call from the Boulder police department that I had been burgled. They took my computer, a solid four years of my data completely removed from my hands. I think I have a backup somewhere, but it’s still disheartening. Gone, lost in time’s washing machine. Dealing with the product of that feeling (someone needs to capture this) has been the bane of my existence, and has been illuminated during the Field School. What do you do about industry? What do you do about poverty? What about institutions and dead cow skulls and little girls who try to sell you earrings? How do I explain to my friends in the coffee shop that the print I’m wearing is horribly offensive to a community hundreds of miles from here? Can you do anything? Will you do anything? Does taking a picture of it make it last longer?