Roof
Hans Borg
Musée Magazine embraces the beautiful hope that every picture stimulates an interpretation. This column is our tip of the hat to that concept, with a fictionalized text we’ve written to accompany a selected photograph.
Written by: Emma Mathes
The landlord had marked the roof “off limits,” but he also never fixed the pipe problems. So, Fuck him, Mom would have said.
It wasn’t Fran’s day, and she felt herself deciding that it wasn’t her year. Her hand found a lighter, one thing led to another, and then–Roof.
Trying to find her center she closed her eyes and thought. That was her problem. Always thinking, when she should just, be.
Soon enough her posture closed in on itself, and she felt herself shrinking. But the sun felt wonderful on her face. And the temperature was just right. And the air smelled fresh, and new. So, in spite of it all, she breathed.
