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Walking through a city with so much hustle and bustle going on around you is an act of punk meditation. I submerge in solitude and can only observe life going through everything around me.
These images are my moments of irony and resignation while sinking without resisting.
A palm tree balanced on a cloth of sand, as it saw that it resisted...
This is how I imagine that day was... very bright.
Lone ranger screaming unheard.
Like a work of art but without a gallery.
The cartel mustache that grew and grew.
Pieces torn from loneliness
A postcard view.
Somewhere in Tribeca.
That playground of such primary colors.
Like when you're in the spotlight without meaning to.
Sometimes we forget but there they are, silent.
Look at me, love me, but don't touch me.
Naked like a fool, and you to blame.
Suburb Pollock.
While one passes, life runs through.
I used to place my toys like this too.
Are they memories? I don't know! But I liked it.
No stopping, I mean it.
Plastic Spring in Spring..... street.
Suffragettes of our time.
Well, only two boys walking.
Unbalanced balances.
Rooftop rumors at one in the morning.
154 West Broadway, East village.
Mapplethorpe in his tangle.
Liaison in resin with wigs and earrings.
Remembering what they told me.
Moscow. Cabang. Coney island.
Who the hell is this king of Prince street?
Horizontal alignment or efficient worker.
Doctor Pink login...
Shadows of the past in Wallace's gaze.
A very hipster photo.
What came first; the chicken or the egg?
A pirate from the walls.