As a kid sitting on the rear rack of my mothers bicycle, leaning against her back, riding to school. I remember dreaming off while starring at the pavement rushing underneath the tires. Rhythmic road marks, paint spots, crunshed metal cans and lost gloves would pass by. This somehow always stayed with me and lateron, where ever I would go I started to take pictures of them. They trigger little stories in my mind of people on the move, going out, heading to work and going home. I find these litlle jewels in this stuff that is lost, discarded and trampled. A society on the move is shown on the pavements and roads.