At night we became lost children, unmoored, willfully unaware with skin scraped raw and tender joints. In quiet moments as I contemplate the visual map of a shoot, my eyes glaze and I overlay a past history of nose slides and grinds onto the present tense.
Year of making photos have shaped my worldview, of seeing how the camera will see, a particular flattening of the world into two dimensions. Yet on this warm, sodden day in Spring, my mind’s eye can only map out how I might kick twice for speed, crisply ollie to a grind. And then roll away cleanly without once looking back.
Photo: Freedom Plaza, Washington, DC