All that she packed was her diary. Brown recycled paper and a pencil. Out here, she is convinced she needs nothing else. Maybe a few bodysuits and feathers for film photographs and night spent playing, but material items are of little importance. Out on the backroads of America, you meet the hung-over and the moving forward. You learn to speak spanish and bargain for a fifth of southern comfort. The hospitals are miles away and everything is hands on. The mirrors are missing, so fuck what you look like and just roll with it. Smile at the tourists, shake off the fanny packs and when the women asks you "how do you do" in french, kindly pull the stick from her ass.
This week marked the end of my summer travels and the beginning of school. Staying put, working modeling jobs and studying acting until the end of this month. I'll be in new york for a few more shoots and some hangouts, most likely staying in the Soho/Tribeca area. I'll try and keep myself occupied until then, adventures in chicagoland are already well underway, stay tuned.