334 - Montana

Shirt - via eBay, Shorts - secondhand, Shoes - Ego and Greed c/o Solestruck

I haven't updated my blog in a while because I've had a crazy month. August 17th was my birthday, and I spent it in Montana with my grandmother. Rural areas are so foreign to me, their rolling hills disappearing at the seams, fading into fatigued expanses of aimless self. It's hard to imagine what that much nothing looks like, I guess.

I walked around the farmer's markets in my grandmother's home town, matured women cocking an eyebrow at me. "Well, aren't you somethin'!" said one, furrowing her brow at my see-through shirt. "Not where I'm from," I replied.

There's a charm to the tiny-town farmer mentality, an unapologetically basic approach to living. However, that perceived charm is probably just a glamorized novelty -- the exoticization of a bygone era, perhaps gone for good reason. This hits me as I read the bumper sticker on the pickup truck in front of me in the parking lot at the local feed store: "This truck was built with wrenches, not chopsticks."

There are two sides to every story, something beautiful and something ugly inside of every person, every place. Montana is no exception, the beauty of its topography offset by the foul ideologies of its xenophobic residents, cut off from the world and left to incubate in their ignorance. I detest the word "ignorance" here, really. It's too forgiving.

There are animals, though, in Montana. Farm animals, wild animals, and dogs. At least there's that.