So you're in an airport.

You're in LAX, one of the country's busiest airports, after 22 hours of intercontinental travel, waiting for the last puddle-jump that will take you back home.

Except the return flight is delayed two hours, and after watching The Terminal over the last hour on the Pacific flight and the first hour stuck in Terminal 8, both of you are punchy and in a weird airport headspace.

You also both have Nikon D70s, one with a 28-70mm and the other with a 105mm portrait lens. Huddled behind and under the departures monitors, what else is there to do but people-watch and document the event?

I've always felt that airports are strange, magical places outside of realspace. O'Hare and Denver remind me of the 'woods between the worlds' in Narnia, where each portal (gate) leads to another reality, and there exists no indigenous reality except a generalized amalgam of miniaturized chain stores.

This is Rachel's and my first joint album, but now that we are both so digitally-equipped, I'm certain that it won't be the last. We'd love to read your comments.