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Description
What was that...? A familiar sound, made eerie only by its incongruity in this place of ragged edges and decay. It was music...something old and half-obscured by static, but stately despite that. Bach, one of the Brandenburg Concertos, filigreed and ornate and utterly out of place in this landscape of active chaos and utter disarray.
Less mindful of his footing, urged on by the music, Gordon mounted a shifting slope of medical debris and found the Bach at its source. Below him, in a small depression among the scraps, a battered Dodge van lay with its nose hidden as if it had been rooting in the garbage, its tail thrust into the air at a jaunty angle, the rear doors flung wide. Light poured from the open doors, and with the light came the music.

A piece based on Marc Laidlaw's "Scrapland" short story. More photobashed and quick than I usually do, as should be evident.
valvearchive.com/laidlaw-vault…

Description
What was that...? A familiar sound, made eerie only by its incongruity in this place of ragged edges and decay. It was music...something old and half-obscured by static, but stately despite that. Bach, one of the Brandenburg Concertos, filigreed and ornate and utterly out of place in this landscape of active chaos and utter disarray.
Less mindful of his footing, urged on by the music, Gordon mounted a shifting slope of medical debris and found the Bach at its source. Below him, in a small depression among the scraps, a battered Dodge van lay with its nose hidden as if it had been rooting in the garbage, its tail thrust into the air at a jaunty angle, the rear doors flung wide. Light poured from the open doors, and with the light came the music.

A piece based on Marc Laidlaw's "Scrapland" short story. More photobashed and quick than I usually do, as should be evident.
valvearchive.com/laidlaw-vault…