Parking lots in Dallas
1. the parking in excessive concrete glory devours the city landscape. there is nothing left behind. hot sun scorches everyone who ventures there.
2. the parking lot is the only space left for the derelict, the homeless with their grocery-store-cart-caravans, the twelve-year-olds trying out their bikes and failing, lovers groping each other by night.
3. the parking lot is sublimely pure capital. its price escalates in proximity to the center city. but in the city where parking lots abound, they become fluid, public domain. vendors set up the consumption of small-time space. you pay the local fee to enter the flea market.
4. sometimes the parking lot evolves a life of its own. street fairs occur spontaneously. fat women sell fake flowers and civil-war artillery replicas. church youth groups vend sweet drinks and dripping burgers from collapsable vinyl tents. car-washes as fundraisers. slaves to the marching band practice six hours a day, blistering under the sun.
Bite me, Piazzo del Campo. We have it all.