Last summer I biked everywhere – to bars, grocery stores, to work… it was the ideal method of transportation as it gave me something pleasant to do inside a very busy schedule. I worked a couple of part-time jobs and ran many pointless expensive errands but I didn’t make much of an effort to do any one thing noteworthy or epic.
Could’ve? – Yea.
Should’ve? – Debatable.
Would’ve? …I don’t think so.
Instead, I took a liking to short adventures from point A to B and whetted my fascination for small curiosities. One of the cool things I came across was the growing number of cicada shells on the trees just outside where I worked. Lucky me! Seriously, if I hadn’t been locking my bike to the trees at work all summer I probably would have never noticed.
The fascination started as fear. I was still very much bothered by bugs and the shells were…creepy. Still determined to hold my lock spot I hurriedly locked my bike and cringed away. With each shift I took a longer look at the shells, growing more and more amazed with each passing. Through wind and rain and deep humidity those cicada shells held strong; clinging to the trees like velcro with their bladed leggies.
One day, soon after I had decided that the shells weren’t so bad, I got a weird idea. At the end of my shift I took an old coffee cup with me instead of throwing it away. When I arrived at my bike I began my search for shells to fill it with. Once I gathered a bunch, I stuck the lid back on and biked home to photograph them.
I don’t remember exactly why I did it. When I think about it, it may have been a number of things. I know that I wanted to remember something about that summer that made it different from previous ones. I’m sure that I wanted to give myself a project, something to do that was new and unlike me. But most of all, I wanted to seek discomfort and get over it.
-KatView other posts by Kat Ba