Lakers’ Lemonade

Having strapped cameras to their chairs they roll and spin quietly in circles. It may be one of the rare times they hear added harmonies to the rhythms of their motorized chair; the gravel rolling under the wheels, bits of confetti quietly tearing away. They don’t mind the arid smell of dust on a surprisingly humid spring noon. The ecstasy of having a camera to record the motion around them. They are rare. After the cheering begins to settle and the masses begin to disperse they find themselves still haunting the groins of the venue long after the celebration dies; the cement temples that tie to the stadium where people park their cars, or the narrow streets nearby that still hold some looming spirit- you still see them spinning and recording simple joys. Spending a day with lemonade. Rolling, steering, and weaving in and out of the event but not the crowd.