Flashback
Musée Magazine embraces the wonderful hope that every picture stimulates an interpretation. This column is our tip of the hat to that concept, with a fictionalized text we’ve written to accompany a selected photograph.
Written by: Emma Mathes
Sitting at his desk on the 11th floor, doing admin for a third-rate ad salesman, losing minutes off his life to make end’s meet, he started dreaming.
In his head, he went back to when deadlines were irrelevant and all that mattered was how high the sun hung in the sky. He saw flashes of his front yard, games made with sticks, and his father lassoing an empty can of beans. The sun was falling, drawing out the shadows, and all his chest remembered was laughter.
The phone rang. He shook his head, shivered his muscles, and his hand reached for the receiver.