andy jenkins photographer

Only numbers

The drive thru line is long, so I decide to park and go in. Never been inside this particular fast food joint, but they make a good chicken pita pocket, so I go for it. The parking lot is tight. Ridiculously tight. I wait for a giant Suburban to struggle its way through a twenty-point turn, before slithering into the spot it vacated. As I walk in, I pass a line of homeless folks sitting on the stoop out front. The cement is black with their time spent. Inside I instantly get a turnaround from a tall, bald, flame-tattooed white man waiting his turn at the register.

“Number 911!” shouts the Hispanic girl from behind the counter. “Your order is up!”

Flame …read on

, 27 July 2009

Postcard by Tucker Nichols

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andy jenkins photographer

Family

Uncle Jon watches the TV through binoculars. Refuses to get his eyes checked. He used to write pretty funny Christmas letters—despite the sprinkling of a couple racist quips—before he lost his sight and decided he couldn’t write anymore.

Carry’s mother just smiles peacefully during conversations. She can’t hear a damn thing. Sometimes her hearing aids emit a super-high-pitched ring that has everyone around her squinching their faces up wondering what they hell it is.

Tito Anthony has gout. I’m not sure what gout is, but it doesn’t sound good. One time, after a check-up and battery of tests, they found some cancer in his back and started radiation treatments. The guy loves his wine and cigarettes and refuses to give …read on

, 20 July 2009

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