BOOM!
BOOM!
Imagine a firecracker with the bass knob turned all the way up to eleven. In your brain, think of a sound that completely disrupts what you're doing that you pause and just... stop. The boom was so violent and exploding that I almost laughed thinking to myself, "I didn't hear what I thought I did, did I?" It's amazing really. We hear booms and explosions on TV, movies and now even the internet all day for entertainment, but this gun wasn't funny.
As familiar as it was to my ears, I really didn't want to believe that it was an actual gun.
The sound of a hand cannon going off less than 50 feet from my window.
It was that unbelievable.
I was in the middle of the first official day of packing for Las Vegas, and I had opened the windows for the first time since winter had started. It was one of the first warm days Chicago had seen after months and months of record snow, so the breeze was comforting. My girlfriend's cat heard the unlocking of the window and rushed from his deep slumber to take in the smells of the city.
Then the violent boom put everything on pause.
Convinced it was just a tire going out, I went on with my day.
That was Thursday afternoon around 3:00 PM.
I left my building to pick up my girlfriend on her last day of work and found a host of Chicago's finest surrounding the area. Yellow tape wrapped around Drexel Blvd kept neighbors at a distance. The deep tire track grooves in the ground from the drive by shooters left an eerie signature of the culprits.
I had already begun typing the first few paragraphs of what was to be the first post of this blog, but this event sort of changed things. This first post is dedicated to the young black man that I only know as Carlos. He unfortunately died tragically in front of my home on the first official day of packing. The past few days I've been thinking, what if today was HIS first day of packing instead of mine? What if he was the one that had an opportunity to leave? Maybe he would have been at home unhooking his stereo instead of walking down Drexel this afternoon.
1,768 represents the amount of miles that exists between Chicago, IL and Las Vegas, NV. I just accepted a photographer position with Sun Belt Digital, and for my first assignment they asked me to document my moving experience. What I see, you'll see. What I hear, you'll hear. Who I meet, hopefully you'll also meet. What I experience, you'll experience. That will all come later.
God, please watch over this young soldier. Please be with his family during this tough time.
R.I.P. Carlos
(The intended first post of 1,768 will come next. Thanks for reading.)
1 comment:
you know, a few weeks ago a kid got shot right across the street from us. I was already at war with the killer. him and his friends were desperately trying to turn our neighboorhood into some bullshit "hood". BET and MTV have corrupted our youth. the police had our section of the block taped off for most of the day. it was surreal. afterwards there was a strange spirit that desended on the block. i saw the beginning of what later turnd into a homicide. sometimes i turn around while im outside and its like i can see it again. guns are very real. bullets are real. movies and music videos are not. that kid will not get an oscar for his role of the dead guy.
but enough of that. your leaving too? so i gotta hold this city down by myself huh?
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