Image: elsemanario.com
You can find this vid compilation, with more afterwards, on YT.
An Austin Healey drives across a desert. The driver steps out and enters a phone booth. Dirt bikes and quads. A truck passes the Healey as sunset falls.
Boys’ Own comic-style. Pop group emerges from the page and seduces the girl reading the comic. Milk bar. Leather jackets. Smash, grab and run. Brrrrrrrrrrrm! The lead singer throws himself senseless against the walls of his cell.
Horizontal lines, a crowd of dancers. The camera is still and picks up passers-by. Leather-clad lovers. Flowers mean romance. Romance is running carefree. A phone booth phone hung up.
Shirtless drummer. White reggae. Military haircuts, with style. Your hair’s too long. But the stadium’s empty.
Fret boards and combs. New wave hang-over. Tripping? Blurry. In the desert again.
Not Paris, Texas, but what was the year?
We never had it so free.
Nostrawritofmandamus here, with a prediction:
One day, the whatever-it-is-we’ve-decided-to-call-whatever-they-now-are generation are going to look up from their minute, wee screens, and see a desert with an Austin Healey racing across it; and they will yearn to make a call from a phone booth. Because being tied to a line stretched across a desert will make them freer than they will ever have been.
Do chess pawns breathe a sigh of relief as they’re removed from the board?
Freedom is in the mind. But it gets there through the heart.