“who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,” -Allen Ginsberg, Howl and Other Poems
I walked around the city for a few hours today. The sun was bright and high in the sky, which alters the colors of everything I see. I donated some clothing and food to the Denver Rescue Mission, but my attempts at gaining access to photograph the inside of the mission were rebuked. “Pictures are Taboo,” he said. “Get permission from admin,” he said. Frustrated, I asked him why. He just kep repeating the words admin and taboo.
So I walked away and turned my attention to the grafitti that the area is seemingly covered in. The River North District is bursting with color. I return here frequently to browse Denver’s street art scene. the landscape stays the same, but the colors are constantly changing and found in abundance. In these alleyways, among all the spray painted walls, and chemical smells, and original creations from the brains of amazing human beings, I find solitude. I find peace. I find a quiet moment to contemplate life. I could roam these alleys for days, but the responsibility of parent hood tugs at me to get back to the car, to cut this trip short so I can make it on time to preschool for the pick-up. I don’t have ten bucks to pay the late fee if you don’t pick up your kid on time.