In Boston, it feels like visiting another neighborhood is like visiting another country. I mean we have Boylston street, Brookline and Boylston street, Boston, etc. You also tend to stay just in the area where you live. I mean I might venture out into the wilds of Brookline (which is literally steps from my door) but there are exotic regions of Boston, where I’ve never visited.

A friend invited me to her graduation party in Ashmont, to be taunted by her hilarious Irish mother and to enjoy a generally wonderful party. Ashmont. Hmmmm. What was that? I mean I’d seen it as the last station on the red line for years, but had I gone there? No. Did I know the area? No. But off I went, with the promise of Irish taunting and of course, picture taking.

Turns out Ashmont is quite lovely and had a lot of these Hopper-esque kind of houses that I so enjoy photographing: