The sign read “Road Closed”, so I proceeded forward. I love exploring and I love exploring where you’re not “suppose” to be. There is something about doing the “wrong” (not intently) that feels right. It probably stems from my wreck less childhood when I would constantly be the bandit of the class, always getting in trouble for talking while class was in session. I can’t help it; I just love doing naughty things so why stop today?
As I neared the construction area of the freeway under passage I got a sense that I shouldn’t be here after hours which was exemplified by the coupous amounts of hunters orange construction tape and steal chain-link plated lock around the fence. I proceeded anyways. I found a small opening just to the left of the fence where there was a break in the construction tape. I took this as a clear indication that I was welcome and limboed towards delinquency.
Once inside, I scurried to find an exit as if a silent alarm had just gone off and I had three minutes to get the hell out of doge before the 5–0 would roll and it would be a full-on sprint away from the taser. As I approached the exit l looked down to find a gift, free sunglasses, that I almost trampled. I reached down to snag them up as I bolted down the road with one pair of glasses on my head and one pair on my face, I felt on top of the world. As I made my way closer to the trail that would take me back home, I began to question why I had two pairs of glasses on my head. I began to get angry with myself for being so greedy and wanting more of something I already had. I guess there could be only one solution…
As I rounded the bend of the path I would take back home, I stumbled upon the impressionistic artwork drawn on the concert walls that lined the riverway. For some reason, I love graffiti, its linework, and the self-expression it portrays. Once I was finished making an emotional tie to the canvas, I looked around to find the ‘perfect’ display. I found an oblong broken wooden fence that could do the trick, but it didn’t feel right, so I walked until I was satisfied. And then, at last, the perfect spot. I took off the sunglasses I had boughten from an online black market website (using a credit card to purchase them so I could be refunded after a potiental identity theft and/or thousands of dollars in charges accumulated) and donate them to the world in hopes that whoever found them could enjoy their luxury, just as I once did. I figured that I was now in possession of something more meaningful, more inspiring, but most importantly, this inanimate object now had a heartbeat and its rhythm will be kept alive by anyone who dares to ask the question, “Hey, where did you get those sunglasses?”