Since I’ve moved downtown I’ve spent a lot more of my time wandering. Last summer and autumn I found myself fascinated by something that used to be so commonplace. To be fair, they still are commonplace. Most of us just don’t need them anymore.
I think that’s why I love them. They started as a joke to me, because I’m a bad human who relishes my wealth too much. But as it happens I fell in love. They seem irrelevant, and they aren’t. I’ve started collecting them. It’s the only way I can describe it. I appreciate, but never add any pictures of them sent to me by friends. If a friend sees one, and thinks of me, I appreciate the thought, but never share it. This is an organic and personal project. If you’ve been in the car with me when I’ve seen one you know how weirdly important it is to me. I’ll yell, and if I’m driving slam on the brakes. I gasp so loudly you”ll think you’re about to die. I have to get them. It’s a part of me. I’m starting in Fort Wayne. I’ve seen them other places, but until I’m satisfied with what I’ve found at home I will not branch out.
Nothing breaks my heart more than a shell. An empty shell. It tricks me and tears my heart out. I only ever collect an empty shell if I find it near a filled shell.
With that knowledge. Here they are. I don’t know which ones work. I never test them. I never change the scene. I take them as they are, as I hope people take me.