Finding Home
Acrylic on reclaimed shipping cardboard / 4” x 6”
This box originated from a nail salon in Paris, cradling a tiny bottle of his favorite shade of pink polish. Every Sunday, he set up his bright fuchsia hammock in the tiniest, sunniest corner of Dolores Park, his faded hoodie zipped up to his chin, and his sneakers scuffed just right. Back home, boys didn’t wear pink, didn’t paint their nails, and didn’t swing in neon hammocks under the open sky. But here, he thought maybe he could. Laying back, he pretended to read, half-hoping nobody noticed, half-hoping they did. As the afternoon sun burned away the fog, the heat crept in, and he kicked off one sneaker, his sparkly Paris-pink toes wiggling in the sun. Nobody even blinked. He dropped the other shoe and knew he’d found home.
Acrylic on reclaimed shipping cardboard / 4” x 6”
This box originated from a nail salon in Paris, cradling a tiny bottle of his favorite shade of pink polish. Every Sunday, he set up his bright fuchsia hammock in the tiniest, sunniest corner of Dolores Park, his faded hoodie zipped up to his chin, and his sneakers scuffed just right. Back home, boys didn’t wear pink, didn’t paint their nails, and didn’t swing in neon hammocks under the open sky. But here, he thought maybe he could. Laying back, he pretended to read, half-hoping nobody noticed, half-hoping they did. As the afternoon sun burned away the fog, the heat crept in, and he kicked off one sneaker, his sparkly Paris-pink toes wiggling in the sun. Nobody even blinked. He dropped the other shoe and knew he’d found home.
Acrylic on reclaimed shipping cardboard / 4” x 6”
This box originated from a nail salon in Paris, cradling a tiny bottle of his favorite shade of pink polish. Every Sunday, he set up his bright fuchsia hammock in the tiniest, sunniest corner of Dolores Park, his faded hoodie zipped up to his chin, and his sneakers scuffed just right. Back home, boys didn’t wear pink, didn’t paint their nails, and didn’t swing in neon hammocks under the open sky. But here, he thought maybe he could. Laying back, he pretended to read, half-hoping nobody noticed, half-hoping they did. As the afternoon sun burned away the fog, the heat crept in, and he kicked off one sneaker, his sparkly Paris-pink toes wiggling in the sun. Nobody even blinked. He dropped the other shoe and knew he’d found home.