He was 14.
He received his first “stupid skateboard” his family called it.
After a few weeks perfecting his skill, he called it “freedom”.
A severely personal experience that forms relationships between people.
A rolling paradox.
While the heart of the sport is personal, the fashion, the lingo, skating equipment, and of course the love of skating is shared.
And he’s fallen in love.
An unconventional love but just as strong as the love of a man and woman.
He gets the same range of emotions.
Frustration, exhilaration, jealousy, rage, confidence, extreme joy but most of all the feeling of freedom.
Like a drug addict, he craves that feeling.
The freedom to attack the urban landscape, anyway he sees fit.
As he pushes his way across town, and grinds away the stress and ollies over obstacles in his life, he searches for himself.
A coping mechanism for everything wrong in his life, it’s the only thing he can do right.
He approaches a railing and pushes his back foot down.
Simultaneously sliding his front forward popping his board into the air.
Sliding the length of the rail he lands perfectly into a feeling of accomplishment and love.
His board the only one in his life, who grants him this.