You wake up surprised to see a white canvas of snow. You grab your picture taker in hopes of documenting something cool, something precious in this loaded landscape. Because you have a window that overlooks the street the odds are good. While you’re just looking to witness the scene others are in it, doing things with snow as canvas. One artist is angry. Maybe it was more than one person, but probably not. He is alone. Maybe it wasn’t a he, but probably it was. On a car, he fingers the snow to reveal a big swastika and a request: Fuck Me.
You’re a little bummed. It tarnishes the scene with invective hate.
Someone agrees with you. While passing the hood with swastika, without breaking stride, he swipes it clean. A social editor changing the narrative.
You’re a little bummed. It tarnishes the scene with invective hate.
Someone agrees with you. While passing the hood with swastika, without breaking stride, he swipes it clean. A social editor changing the narrative.
I join the editor by removing the request on my way to the bus.