So I found this plaster sculpture of a Tropical Other being thrown out.
It was old and chipped and worn and tired.
It was an avatar for a cultural identity. A little icon being tossed out.
Maybe that identity, that idea, that image, was as old and chipped and worn and tired to it's owner as the discarded avatar.
But once you throw that image away, what takes its place?
The last photo shows her after she got buried in snow. How Canadian!
How’s that for a cultural identity sneaking in!
This is the sort of thing that can only happen when you work on the street.
Maybe we’re all united by the cold. Maybe we’re the same when underneath a shared blanket of snow.