entropy
"There are no unsacred places," wrote the poet Wendell Berry, "there are only sacred places and desecrated places."
One day while driving to northern Michigan I noticed a building alongside the road. It seemed to once have been some sort of chapel as evidenced by its architectural style, its steep roof, and the shape of the window in its door.
Upon closer inspection it became apparent that the chapel was no longer used for this purpose. Whatever pews, altar, and other furnishings that had once made it a place in which to worship had been removed. Instead it was filled with shovels, wheelbarrows, and other tools.
While printing the negative that I exposed that day I happened to hear Berry's poem, "How to be a poet," that contained these lines. It seemed a perfect title for my photograph.