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  • I’ve been taking a lot of pictures while I drive. I hold my camera-phone in my right hand with my wrist resting on the steering wheel. Often I record videos and my phone sucks in the nuanced roadside all by itself, so my thumb on the shutter button doesn’t have to. The act trains me to realize how June cornfields look in the afternoon and how gray guardrails glow orange. Sketching on the subway, writing in the airport—I find myself clinging to spaces and places that are intentionally transitive. Spaces that shake us free like bulls brushing off flies. Even so, I hurtle illegally down the interstate recording instances of lyrical monotony.
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