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soon the leaves will fall
then the snow will follow
in gusts of swirling silence
“um no, not really.”
he hands us a small sized bag from within his bag, identical to the one covering his tall boy of cours light.
“uh thank you,” i respond, covering up the same labeled can in my hand.
“you know that it is a 25 dollar ticket if you get stopped by the police with open beer?”
“wow that is like a deal where we come from.” jessica and i look at each other and nod in agreement.
we all sit on our benches and take a few sips looking out over the water. taking in its horizon.
“you know if you want to find an interesting time you could go down to the public court house. there is always a lot of action there. you don’t even need the ticket.”
“oh ya. i guess that is an idea,” i reply, looking over my shoulder at the tattooed russian hoodlums playing hand ball in cages, glistening with sweat. we sat there and finished our beers as night fell around us. i was quite happy where i was, this place was nutty enough for me.
uncle denis is a celebrity in a certain part of the world. his eccentric lifestyle and dangerous sense of thrills have earned him many an article in the local news. but there are many other stories ones that no one hears, ones that warm your heart.
this pool in his backyard is hidden, lying dormant like a childhood dream. the water so thick with tadpoles and frogs that it hums and croaks with life. a creation inspired by both the savage and myth.
the magic that creates fairytales
the paired loons laugh, giggle
at our absurd paddle boat antics
somewhere in mid-northern michigan while taking a supposed short cut we came across this lovely setting. it could be described as a road side mud clearing dotted with army trucks and about as many half bred buffalo/cattle (also known as either beefalo or cattalo) . i have only my little shreds of evidence and some theories as to what kind operation or militia might be gathering here. though admitably it did have a sort of futuristic apocalypse feel to it that i kind of liked, but also found disturbing. i would warn you to steer clear of it, but in reality i have no idea where it was or how to get back there.
If there is one thing that is a common sighting in Detroit, it is the ‘party store’. They are typically peppered into the landscape along clusters of abandoned commercial areas on larger roads. They are open from 7am until 2am, save a few exceptions; January 1st: open until 4am, December 24th: closed at midnight and Sundays they do not open until 12pm, as a consideration for church goers. You can often cash checks, buy liquor, cigarettes, lotto tickets and a variety of pops and junk food. They use an elaborate sign campaign to advertise their products, which I liked because many of them date back to the fifties.
The French Canadian version of a ‘party store’ (a term mostly used in the mid-west of the U.S.) is called a Depanneur. The translation of this word to English is “a repairer of breakdowns” or “troubleshoot.”
this lonely set of highway barriers is a particularly old and beautiful one. i immediately was drawn to them, they had a sort of ancient throne appeal. the common barrier that you would find on a highway (also known as a jersey barrier or k-rail in the more western states) was originally designed for the safety of pedestrians as well as the elimination of head on collisions but has had arguable impacts on the movement of animals. the jersey barrier has more recently been deployed in anti-terrorism plights due to the durability of their reinforced steel design. their advantage in battle is their moveable but semi-permanent nature. but i must ask the question of this need for separation, if the lines are ephemeral how does one know what side of the line one is standing on?
the turcot interchange was originally built as a “dramatic” display of montreal’s global position as a metropolis, yet it has become a crumbling problem. its design accommodated both ships and trains to pass underneath its expansive footprint and in this case, deviant youth.
moments fluttering with contemplation, self-reflection
images of escaping reality.
an attempt at being grounded
left as shadows cast upon the horizontal.
depths of layered reality, somewhere between shadowed pasts and ghostly futures.
haunted we are by glimmers of far off white.
even the stars are dying every second.
their light may pass us eventually but it continues and expands the universe further.
the corners we forgot
remembered with two blinks of an eye
i like looking at the ground because i am shy
but sometimes it is nice to look up at the sky
over the last little while i have been developing this sort of theory that people are ok with garbage accumulating in certain places. maybe it is that they don’t really notice the piles or maybe it is the unwritten language of city, proper etiquette if you will. it seems partly due to the patterns of human behavior, the necessity of these neutral spots and there is definitely a location issue (slightly off the main street, tucked into a recess, never in someone’s front lawn). it seems that over time these spots become even more useful, somewhat like a reusing center but free, anonymous, ever changing; a reflection of the community itself.
the logical use of a ladder is to reach higher space. the logical purpose of a key is to gain access to that which has been locked. but what they do have in common? = they are man made and therefore unnatural, in a sense pollution, garbage. but they sure are shiny.
the man who let us photograph the keys is a little bit hysterical, being portuguese, but he says the kids are always coming in asking to take pictures. the street art was done by toby xx on a multiple exposure.
We enjoy short walks in the snow and long johns.
In our spare time we try to capture ghosts.
Looking for someone who is also enraptured by the paranormal.
Comment below to give us a sign. We want to believe.