Helena, Montana.
We’ve seen this before; a boy standing in a place without parking lots, sodium phosphate lighting or stains of a mercurial, fuzzy sort. As always, he is flying beyond such trivial things in search of the smile he can take back to earth as a showpiece for the miles logged, the journey undertaken, the golden brilliance achieved. Once again, he stands somewhat awkwardly, arms akimbo and sporting fingers splayed as peaceful triangles. Happy as a lark or a man who just traversed a minefield unscathed, he sees the sea [sic] of rolling, tree-stunted hills beneath him as the face of a teenager yet unable to find continuity in his facial hair. Sun bathes his tanned, wind scarred face. Adrenaline and fatigue mix a heady, much-loved cocktail in his working, worn muscles. The day will pass, but the moment is one being committed to eternal memory. I think.
*photo courtesy of A. Tendick.