My memories of fair rides always involve 70s rock. Boston blaring. Or maybe Foreigner. Acne riddled teens running hand in hand with cotton candy all over their lipstick smeared faces. Mirrors won by tossing darts through balloons. Frogs hit with hammers and launched into the air. Meet me under the giant chicken. The grandstand, I fell off it once. It was a dream that I got to live. Wrestling in the fair. And then I walked bruised and bloody and demanded a fresh squeezed lemonade.

Photo - N
Words - S