Layover

Here's a taste of Chicago.



Fourteen people willing to ride with the dogs.

Looking for Heaven, party of three.

Reading Collapse in low-impact sneakers.

How's that for pretense?



I can always recognize your poor legs coming down the stairs.

Another one needs a pusher.



There are so many kinds of bumps.



In the moment prior to the tightening of your ability, there was this attempt at ritualized
sanity.



French onion soup on the floor.

A desolate bra.



How many hours behind are you?