Sometimes the strangest things become symbols in life. As I was walking Dusty this evening, we walked past an early 90's Toyota Landcruiser, a very similar model to the one my parents had, and nearly the same color. We spent hours upon hours, and thousands of miles from California to Alaska in that Landcruiser. An entire family crammed in, wedged between all their worldly possessions. Sitting on the back tailgate in parking lots eating sandwiches next to my brother. I remember it was the very first car we owned with a CD player in it, and it felt rather fancy and newfangled. I was only 5 or so, so I'm not even sure I knew what a CD was. One time I accidentally left a pack of crayons on the seat on a hot summer day, and when we came back the crayons had all melted and bled into the upholstery, a waxy mess nearly impossible to completely remove. Luckily the fabric was brownish and a bit multicolored, which made the spot less noticeable. I'll never be able to see an early 90's Toyota Landcruiser on the road without an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia.
dress/courtesy of modcloth :: cardigan/swapped :: boots/courtesy of blowfish
hat/courtesy of tittle millinery :: scarf/pashmina :: photos by Dan
![This print feels even more relevant today. We all joke about the dumpster fire of [insert year here], but the important message of this image to me is that *we persist* through the horrors. We stand, we fight— maybe for ourselves, maybe for oth](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/574dddd6d51cd4bc35c1609a/1730935170369-03GPKQ5NF73VAE65RHO6/image-asset.jpeg)
