resonance machines that inspire

• +..Amsterdam..


• +..Shiey


• +..

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Dripping, panting and wrecked, we walked outside on floor forty to a nightmare of epic proportions. The architecture was in the midst of supra-environmental contractions. Rain was cutting through the building sideways, rattling the makeshift suspension system holding the whole thing together. I was terrified that the air ducts, which appeared to be zip-tied to the incomplete ceiling of the top floor, were going to come down on us. I turned around and was shocked to find Marc was standing on an incomplete ledge, being pummelled by the rain, trying to get a ten-second exposure, defying everything that was happening around us. And then the rain stopped. And the sirens stopped. We looked over the edge and there was nobody at street level but methamphetamine-addled cab drivers, lost tourists and drunk dudes in loosened ties cruising the Magnificent Mile. It turned out that the sirens had nothing to do with us. The photos we took that night, of my favourite American city bathed in black cloud and blue light, standing on ledges with lighting strikes crawling down from the clouds into Lake Michigan, the storm slowly creeping away, captured the most beautiful moments we had seen yet in North America. It was an opportunity we easily could have missed if not for our earlier failure, our limited time in the city and our brazenness in the face of a serious Midwestern summer storm.
Bradley L. Garrett.