Twice in as many days have I found myself in a parking lot with a little time on my hands. In both cases a cursory search revealed, in a remote corner, a dumpster or two, occupying that liminal space between the gritty asphalt and the rampant foliage asserting Nature's claim to our unproductive and neglected bits of turf.
I tried to get a coherent image using only pen and ink on white paper, relying on texture and hatching to indicate a value scale.
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