A torn curtain is an appropriate symbol for shattered domesticity – which was once very much a part of everyday life in Bodie – a place infamous for murders, robberies, stage holdups and street fights. Some called the town “second to none for wickedness, badmen and the worst climate out of doors.” One little girl, whose family was taking her to this remote and terrible place, even wrote in her diary” “Goodbye God, I’m going to Bodie.” It was to become a phrase known throughout the old west. Today, Bodie is place only of ghosts, and I thought this image fits that theme as well. I saw these torn curtains as a shabby shroud reflected in the skies over Bodie.