Reno, Nevada. September 2010.

Reno was like a hungover dream. I walked down empty streets, eerily quiet. People rubbed their eyes
 and glanced around nervously as they made their morning exits from the casinos. The air was clear
 and crisp and the mountains funneled whistling breezes over the abandoned motels and the bored
 valets and a small group of middle-aged war protesters. A homeless woman with a messed up face
 told me someone had thrown a glass ashtray at her and then asked me for a cigarette. I gave her a
 dollar instead and she told me to keep my heart open. I climbed a dirt hill behind my hotel,
 wandering up jeep trails to try and see the sunset. My shoes filled with dirt. As the sun went down all
 was quiet; a couple in a pickup truck parked on the hill below me and sat there getting stoned. In the
 morning I photographed a cosmetic dental clinic for work and went back to the airport, where people
 played slots and stared into their phones. We flew out over the mountains and I took forgettable
 pictures of them through the window of the airplane.

No comments:

Post a Comment