Colorado Springs, ca. 1968. Robert Adams.
"I took a picture once of a woman silhouetted in a tract house window. And in one sense that’s a picture of the saddest kind of isolation and most inhumane sort of building. But also raining down over this picture onto the roof and the lawn is glorious high-altitude light. Nabokov said there’s no light like Colorado’s, except in central Russia. And you can see it in this picture. It’s absolutely sublime."