when cars needed room in the world, we gave up our strolls on wide open roads.
the air thinned to make room for all the smoke coming out of cars.
sidewalks were made to accomodate carless bums.
when the sidewalk ends, the roads become wider and there is no more room for roaming people.
"There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends."
-- Shel Silverstein (RIP)
Photography by Brittsense
Collage by Tonia
Poetry by Hawa
The most random events led us to meet Brittani Sensabaugh, a lifestyle photographer who takes stunning photographs documenting black nieghborhood life from coast to coast! Instagram pics lead to at-mentions which lead to an interview and collaboration nothing short of inspiring (personal therapy, tbh). Hear what the leader of the 222 movement has to say about passion, love, success, and sidewalks!