Post trauma
When I was eight years old, my father took us townie kids to Butler’s Farm to ride horses. We were all psyched for it; none of us had ridden a horse before. When my dad lifted me into the saddle, I looked down at him from that great height, felt the muscles of the huge, uncontrollable beast beneath me and froze. Petrified, stone-stiff. “Get me down”. The horse moved, snorted, stamped. “Get me down”, I repeated. I was too frightened to cry, but I would not be convinced. “Get me down”. My dad obliged.
I’ll keep it short. We’re all porting strange, illogical cargo. Modern people know that. But the point of the stories we’re telling each other now is simple : Be kind. On both sides of any equation : Be kind.
Watch the video at double speed, but do watch it. Photos : Staten Island, NYC, October 2022.
dZihan and Kamien w/ Madita
Thrill
February 14, 2023
January 21, 2024
December 3, 2023