Tricycle | Awake in the World

Flight, II; Krista Elrick; 2007; archival pigment print

BEHIND THE APARTMENT building where I grew up, on the northeast side of Paris, there was a concrete block that we nicknamed le carré, or the square. Its real purpose, as far as I can remember, was to provide ventilation for the building. From time to time, hot dusty air would come out of it. When you sat on le carré, you would have a view of the building that faced ours, with its tiny windows and parking lot. But for my friends and me, it was the concrete nest of our unfinished selves, a silent observer of our gregarious, insecure teenage lives. It was there that we created love stories and dramas. It was there that we shed tears, shared laughter, and spent long boring hours waiting for time to pass.