In Los Angeles, we drive our cars everywhere. These machines are an extension of us. We ensoul them with our essence. On the highway, there’s only a concrete barrier that protects us from slamming into oncoming traffic. Our focus is on flowing with traffic, not on slamming into anything, but there are times when we lose control. On rare occasions, we crash into those barriers, scarring the highway with a trace of our car – our soul. It’s a peculiar vestige; embossed with steel, rubber, plastic, aluminum, fiber glass, Newton’s laws of motion, and the chaos of ephemeral horror. These photos are my attempt to reveal the remnants of Los Angeleno souls – vestiges of such turbulent beauty.