It’s my job to take them to dinner at eighty miles an hour. It’s my job to stop a mile from the restaurant so they can have five pounds of crab legs and three bottles of beer a piece and then go get prime rib. It’s my job to go hunting so they can go fire off their guns an inch from my ear and laugh when I get startled because it’s my job.
School girls via good night, day
Former soldiers study cake decorating at a vocational school in Puerto Rico, April 1951.
Photograph by Justin Locke, National Geographic