I don’t know what kind of cars Americans drive now and it does not really matter to me.
I don’t know much about cars.
There was something about that Cadillac parked in front of an American flag that reminded me of the dramatic
relationship between man and fish.
There was everything about that Cadillac.
The Cadillac stands between an almost unseen America and the America that is now right in front of my eyes.
Nobody is driving that Cadillac anymore.
I’m not nostalgic, just grateful to have been in its presence.
I tend to idealize objects rather than people.
In Northern Virginia there are American flags in front of almost every building.
I don’t see it as nationalism.
I just stare at the flag.
It flutters differently from any other flag I’ve seen.
America is not mine in the same way in which no country is truly mine.
But I am hers in a way in which I don’t belong to many others.
pictures on film taken by Ion Sterpan and yours truly in Fairfax, VA