while we wish

13th and 14th of March were two of the best days.
saturday was the flea market, clothes on snow, muddy ground sucking my souls, wet feet,
a small desert of concrete, barren fields, artificial landscapes and industrial frindges of town.
sunday, the roots and gil scott-heron blasting in my ears, peddaled outside of Bucharest, to the
middle of what i thought was nowhere. But it turned out to be a spot the Oilers had checked out
long before me. wish i could escape like this everyday, with no sense of direction, just a purpose
in mind.
for more high res photos try vazelina.


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