I see beauty in the smallest things.  I do not create, I simply document.  The beauty I collect exists regardless of my gaze and in spite of my tools.  I use a camera and a back pack to collect gloves from roads and new faces.  Like a glove without a hand, or work without purpose, there lies mystery in the found.  The gloves I discover have a story, some familiar and some never to be known.  During August 2010, I walked from the Ninth Ward of New Orleans to the Gulf of Mexico to find the story of the Louisiana worker.  The roads between gathered objects and people alike.  It was the fifth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina and the oil spill in the gulf was about to be capped.  These are the gloves that I found.