Armed with three cameras, assorted lenses and filters, FaceTime instructions from my teacher (my brother), and a photographer's assistant (my husband), I set off, intrepid explorer that I am, to explore the deserted interior of central Florida.
We drove on straight roads (it's as if the Romans had been here) and tracks, into the sort of areas you see in films - depicting strange families, inbred for generations, staring menacingly, undoubtedly armed to the teeth with the latest weaponry available to them. The kind of people you don't want to stare at, or even look at actually in case you catch their eye ... much less stop the car, get out the camera bags, the tripod, etc etc to take photos of their houses!
So the cameras stayed in the boot. I didn't get any decent photos of their houses - you know, those shacks with a porch and granny snoozing in the rocking chair. We saw them. Briefly as we sped past.
My brother thinks I am a coward. In this case, he is right.