VILLAGE  

Visual essay

Ongoing

Late May and early 90s, early morning. My grandmother and I pile into my grandfather's blue Moskvich and head to the village for the summer. I'm sitting in the backseat, reading "Gone with the Wind." My grandmother teases my grandfather and laughs, and the car smells of warmth, gasoline, and old, rough car covers. Ahead of me are three months of sleeping until lunch, reading books and sitting on a bench in the evening.