Updated: Aug 20
Sometimes you're standing alone, bag in hand, waiting for your ride home. You naively wait---fully trusting in someone else to provide assistance, company, love. They never come.
Sometimes nothing makes sense. Beaten down by years hopelessness, disappointment, and broken promises, you wander the streets barefoot---shoes in hand. The super-heated asphalt burns the soles of your feet as you cross the road. All is well. You don't feel anymore.
Sometimes your day is one long walk between encounters with people who don't know your name. People who don't care to know. One never ending trek to fool yourself into thinking someone cares and supports you but your only cares come from your creditors, your only support, from a cane.
Sometimes life is an addiction to be taken one pill, one sip, one puff of an old, damp, newspaper stuffed with used cigarettes, at a time.
Sometimes people curse you, shame you---say you're no better than the garbage you eat to survive. They spit on you as they prance up the stairs, late for their dinner reservation.
Sometimes you say "I'm going to be better than that," but you end up hustling just to make ends meet.
Sometimes when one door closes, another doesn't open. Keyless, you wander towards the sun praying in time you'll simply disappear.
Sometimes your pockets are full but inside, you're still empty. Your feet, like your life, drag with every step. Heat grows in your heels as the rubber on your shoes slowly wears away. The only being which wanders with you on this lonely, downward spiral into despair, is your shadow.
Sometimes the world tells you you're beautiful. You know you aren't. Desensitized by the lies, you cross the street without looking---hoping to feel something, anything at all---even if it's the bumper of a passing car.
Sometimes, you are alone.
Camera: Canon AE-1
Film: Kodak UltraMax 400 (decolorized)
When: July 2020
Where: Baltimore, MD