Rope Burns

Last weekend I decided, quite impulsively, that the tree in our front yard needed a swing. My forays into home improvement usually go like this, in fits and starts. Knowing how this would end even before it began, Jamie implored me to go to Toys R US to get a nice plastic swing, but that seemed the easy way out and besides, I argued, swings in front yards should look like they’ve been there for 50 years, at least. I raced to OSH and bought the rope that looked the oldest and most authentic, not fully appreciating that gripping said rope created the same sensation as digging ones hands into a hive of angry bees. The kids graciously played on the swing until the pain became unbearable and the rope burns too many. So now the swing hangs limply in the front yard, a reminder of my inadequacy as a home improvement guru, silently mocking me whenever I walk past.

Shot on hasselblad 501 80 mm 2.8 on expired polaroid film.