Sophie Lowe, "Riding Solo"
Troubled sounds. A woman and her worry. She looks around. This is her story.
A desert landscape. How to escape? Does asphalt enslave or emancipate?
She faces the wind. The sun stands behind her. Her feelings, chagrined.
Donned in white, her arms reach for the sky. At the camera she stares, with her sun-soaked eyes.
The feeling of danger, it is gone. The feeling of freedom, accompanied by sun, brings the calm.
The brush, is so lush.
"I am dreaming. I want to open my eyes. I am dreaming. You take me by surprise."
Mountains in the distance. In the wild there is one consistence: everything is of the instant. And then, reminiscence. In the wild, time travel, at least mentally, is existent.
Glossy lips and a look of sorrow. Maybe tomorrow. The world passes by, as does time. Soon the day turns to night. Soon the night turns to light. She dons a shirt made of white. And all seems alright.