Patrick Gage Kelley

Sitting in traffic the light is green but you aren’t moving yet. It is a state that won’t last. Things are about to start moving, speed. Sixty miles per hour is around the turn but for now, everyone can go, and no one is moving yet. The reaction time is milliseconds, but thoughts are faster.

There is a crowded room. Ten people, now eleven, now twelve. It is real life. Sitting in the middle not paying attention to your surroundings. Maybe knitting a scarf or sketching with pencils. This is the way you live. You have been told you obviously don’t care about your image. Exactly the opposite. I want this to be my image. I want it to be truthful. They can know that I am in my own world.

It is transient.

A world between states, we know we are about to go, but with the sunset through the trees casting crawling silhouettes (reaching towards the sky) and the brake lights burning red into the back of your eyes there is something that makes the road and the car and the world not matter.

It is about to be a world of movement.