It was a Saturday around 1 p.m. and I had nothing else to do. Being in college, I was probably overcoming a hangover. Luckily the weather in Boston was fresh and easy — for those who don’t know, nice weather in Boston is very rare. So I sat there on my balcony, about two basketball players off the ground, from where I had a clear view of pedestrians and cars going by. I was close enough to catch small details, but far enough to lose the fear of being noticed. 

I noticed that when there are people in the streets, there is a weak, but present, universal list of rules they follow. This list is unique to everyone, yet a lot of the items on the lists are shared. If you are totally confused right now, I’m talking about things you avoid, like singing out loud or dancing, because it can be embarrassing. Simple things like farting or staring. All these things that are uncomfortable in public but that you do all the time in private. Very few people on the streets break these shared, unspoken rules. 


But the people in their cars, well, it was like they were in a small, protected, bubbled, personal world where they did what they wanted.

I was completely captivated by the fact that the only thing protecting these people from the world was some metal and clear glass windows. That was enough for those people to disconnect from the world and to feel completely detached. There were lonely people in crowded cars, and crowded people in lonely cars. There was dancing, eating, smoking, farting, laughing, stripping, looking, staring, texting, pointing. Everyone completely unconscious of who saw them, except a few that caught the lens of my camera. 

But I was there, seeing everything. 






Post by Jonathan Beker