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Send me your photos – stat!

Pick Up Your Path! was never intended to be a one man show.

Because litter-trash-junk-debris seems omnipresent world-wide, I’m inviting readers to post photos of scenes of carnage (from the litter perspective) plus a few words of descriptive copy you can to provide. My aim is to make pickupyourpath.com a little more interactive and to show the scope of the litter/trash problem wherever you encounter it in the world. Trust me, you won’t have to look far.

Your photos can be one-offs like this abandoned water bottle. Most anything you send will be welcome.

Your photos can be one-offs like this abandoned water bottle. Most anything you send will be welcome.

Some shots may be worth F-bombs, but I’ll probably edit out the more profane words (although you have my permission to mention the unmentionables while you’re out walking your path).

Your photos will be posted on a new page: Your photos – here!

There’s no limit to how many pics you send me. Just send them.

Send photos/copy to Dave at david.bradley@yahoo.com.

About Dave Bradley (264 Articles)
I was a writer by trade so one would think letters would come easily for me. It is so now, but wasn't always that way. Indeed, the first letter was written the Monday after Ellen started her freshman year in college. For years I've wondered - with no good answers - why I swiveled my office chair toward my computer screen to fire up a word processing document for that first letter. I just don't know. I just did. Perhaps it was the angst of separation or wanting to say things that had gone unsaid at that moment when we parted ways in front of her college dormitory. What was a one-off became habitual. When her brother Reid enrolled in the same college, his name was added to the salutation line. They were kids then and are adults now. No matter. The letter writing habit remains so today. I live in Brevard, North Carolina. I'm well away from where they live and don't see them nearly as often as I'd like. That's why letters, at least to me, fill the void of distance. The pages give me something to say and the space to say it. There is no assurance they read the letters; indeed, I have never asked if they do so. With the pace of their busy lives who could blame them for letting a letter sit unopened? Over time, it has dawned on me that the letters are both communicative - and cathartic. By nature, letters are about the writer; the writer can only write about their situation. Perhaps that is as it should be. It's all about the here and now from one person's perspective.

1 Comment on Send me your photos – stat!

  1. With every photo and post use #pickupyourpath

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