It was cold when I woke this morning, but gold light filtered through the windows.
“I’ll take it,” I thought.
The frigid, finger numbing, skin burning, cough inducing winter air is unpleasant, but so long as the sky’s not grey–100 shades of grey, I can deal. I suck it up. I layer. I wear two hats, a sweatshirt, a jacket, fury boots, tights, jeans, double up on the socks, then top it all off with what my aunt calls the “El coat”–a puffy black number covering me from head to nearly toe during the winter months. It may be fugly, but it’s functional.
Then I play a “get pumped” mix. Today’s included “Power” from Mr. West’s most recent release. I eat my words while listening to the song. A few weeks back I went off on a tirade about Kayne-“I’ve been with him since ‘through the wire,’ but I don’t think he’s that good anymore.”
“Well I hear this ones supposed to be the album of the decade,” Amanda says to me.
“He can’t sing!”
I still don’t think he’s a very good singer, but neither am I. The album…well….I might just be slightly, maybe, sorta kinda, hate to admit it, but if I’m going to be honest, addicted. I can own up when I’m wrong. I was wrong.
So, I’m pumped, dressed, armed with my camera, charged battery, and my arsenal of lenses. Off to North Ave. Here’s the thing about the winter, the days are SO short. In July, you’ve got hours and hours to shoot. Today the sun was set by 4:20; my grand ambitions of shooting the Lake Shore then heading back to Gary were quickly adjusted. I’ll have to save Gary for another day. Till then…
This last shot is dedicated to my cousin Lizard. Merry Christmas. I’ll make you a print. <3