A lot of my most formative moments came while waiting in the car in some parking lot, looking. Watching. Hearing the hot silence ticking away heat from the engine. Parking noises. Cart rattle. Without the keys, there was literally nothing to do except roll and unroll the window up or down or up and down. You have to commune intimately with yourself and the smell of warm sun dust on car fabric and dashboard off-gassing. Eventually, it becomes almost pleasant. Who knows what adults even do? I remember experiencing the cool inside of grocery paper bag when they returned. These reveries were even more poignant if it was a long Sunday and you had spotted a Chilali.
A lot of my most formative moments came while waiting in the car in some parking lot, looking. Watching. Hearing the hot silence ticking away heat from the engine. Parking noises. Cart rattle. Without the keys, there was literally nothing to do except roll and unroll the window up or down or up and down. You have to commune intimately with yourself and the smell of warm sun dust on car fabric and dashboard off-gassing. Eventually, it becomes almost pleasant. Who knows what adults even do? I remember experiencing the cool inside of grocery paper bag when they returned. These reveries were even more poignant if it was a long Sunday and you had spotted a Chilali.
Chilali reference 😂😂😂
I love this post. Goes along with some things I've been thinking recently in relation art, art making, and life in general.