Run Away
Desert Cafe | Caleb Kneuven
Musée Magazine embraces the wonderful 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 warehouse was abandoned, and so was I. My feet had carried me, I barely felt the grass and bristles scraping at my ankles. When I finally made it in, I was gasping for air. Two puffs of the inhaler and two minutes later, the deeper breaths broke the dam of my tears. And I lost track of time.
I squatted against the wall, desperate but refusing to put my butt on that floor. All I did was think, breathe, and cry—in that order and in a cycle. The waves of tears seemed to grow stronger, as did my anger and my resolve.
