Although I’m a bit late to the game here, I’m playing catch up after some hectic days. I spent the Fourth of July over in Capitol Hill BBQing, fleeing thunderstorms, and waiting impatiently among the tourists to get onto the Capitol Lawn for the fireworks.

On the way home, I fell behind the group to take pictures. After a couple interactions with police regarding taking pictures near Union Station, I gave up and finished making my way to my friends’ house. The neighborhood was alive with explosions and personally-bought fireworks, the smell of sulfuric smoke everywhere. A burst of color above and a bright sparkle in adjacent parking lots. Two men came streaking by me, smelling of fireworks, quickly followed by two cops hot on their tails.

It was the closest I could imagine an apocalypse in the District, except without their air of death and despair. None of that bummer stuff — only the celebration of blowing shit to holy hell and then doing it again.

Flickr page here.