She must have been doing forty when she saw it, her name in lights as it were. A screeching halt left five feet of rubber on our deserted piece of highway. Like a photojournalist in a warzone, she leapt from the car, camera in hand, ran to the dilapidated building dodging landmines (used diapers?) all the way, to strike a pose for freedom. Or at least the freedom to run around the desert and pose for pictures with grafitti. Admit it, this image is now burned into your brain like those soldiers with the flag at Iwo Jima, isn't it? Funny how history is in the mind of the beholder.
No comments:
Post a Comment