lowrider
Monday, October 23rd, 2006Sliding downhill on the South Park Blocks. Sneaker-brakes: you could hear that slither and scrape recede as they went, two overgrown kids playing it cool as they can on undersize bikes.
Sliding downhill on the South Park Blocks. Sneaker-brakes: you could hear that slither and scrape recede as they went, two overgrown kids playing it cool as they can on undersize bikes.
One bag in each hand—counterweights. Like a old-fashioned scale. Balancing the load.
Small, careful steps, coming off of the streetcar.
Caught them in lockstep—left feet planted, right feet swinging up and back just before the quick kick forward.
Walking is just falling and catching yourself.
He’s walking briskly and carrying…something. What is that? A collapsable something or other, sure, but what?
Doing the walk. Owning the street. On a real sidewalk, you can’t crank the camera down to film in slow motion, but they did the next best thing: they actually walked really slowly.
I don’t know if it was a cohesive group, or if they just came together by circumstance. Perhaps they scattered after making the [...]
Caning along. Three legs and a cig.
He was making pretty good time, too. I like to imagine that he likes to imagine he’s a tripedal train engine: puffing along and muttering “chugga chugga” under his breath all the way.
The wind—her coffee an aegis against its cold—tugs at her cuff.
He hopes the hat-adjustment will impress the judges.
It seemed he was not holding her so much as holding onto her.
Legs like a protractor, like a scissors. Knees optional.