At first moments, when your hand is firmly gripping the hand of a once-stranger in that brief moment they tell you their name is where I usually get lost. I’ll introduce myself and I’ll try to pronounce my name clear enough so that it is remembered, but I expect you to forget. That is where we are, unsure of our names, and in a way we remain strangers. I like that.
I consider these images apart of “summer”, even after I stated the summer portion of this series was completed with 10, make that, 12 triptychs. To me, like the image from earlier this week, is my last moment of summer. And like every summer, there is one image that represents the summer in a form of closure, like the epilogue to a film or book, that reinsuring summary of the ideas and morals behind a story. This story is summer, and like memory, we tend to remember how something starts but always remember how something ends, the in-between fades over time.
(Untitled 13, Darren and Hanslan's Point)
Up next week:
Mystery meat, potentially polaroids, and resurfacing relics. Until then, enjoi the last of what you still call summer, because summer is a state of mind not just a season.