Various Color pressing
I spent a lot of time crossing the Detroit/Windsor boarder tunnel. - My family lives half in the US and half in Canada and my father crossed daily for for work and materials. My brother and I would sit on old paint cans in the back of his work truck. long trips to home depot in the hopes that we could get a rally’s banana milkshake before heading home. - I hated that work truck, but we loved the trips, no matter how mundane. We would spend hours crossing that boarder tunnel when it was busy, our bottoms would hurt from the metal paint cans. When i was in high school i would smuggle cigarettes to sell to the Canadian kids, it was a good business. The dark tunnel in disrepair built over 90 years ago felt like a relic of the past, its leaky walls and pale yellow tiles were always crumbling around you. It was claustrophobic and uncomfortable. But the tunnel made your mind wander with thoughts of what was above you, giant cargo ships or sea monsters. It was an anxious place, the uncertainty of its structure or the dreaded boarder patrol on the other side. Would be be pulled in and searched? would the carton of camels i hid under the seat be found? - It was a special place and a special time. These sounds are about traffic and the movement and time in this strange tunnel.