Stories From America: Solitary Moments

As I lay in bed, I hear the words, "Wake Up, Wake Up!" These words were often repeated, along with, "Let's Go, Let's Go!" Sleep deprived, yet awakened by the thought of adventure and what the day might bring; always setting out in the darkness of the early morning, in winter, and arriving to our destination by sunrise. The Pacific storms from Alaska were events I only wanted to experience from the solitary confinement of my apartment, only to peak out my window from time to time, soberly entrenched in downed blankets while watching Elizabeth Taylor and Mickey Rooney films.  

My reluctance, not due to weather alone, but by mode of transport - a finicky, broken, old convertible roadster with a makeshift top - where one finds exuberance and tolerance, one only has, in their youth. Leaky windows, luke-warm heat, and the smell of gas in the cockpit contirbuted to the desireless trips to nowhere. A cracked, leathered SX-70 Polaroid camera and extra film always lingered in the glove compartment, never stolen, and left behind for its usefulness. These subsequent images are visual representations of relationships, solitude, and moments of Being while lost in the innocence of youth.