Photo Story: The Candy Store Thinks She’s an Ocean
She’d glimpsed scenes from a documentary on a girl’s mobile screen.
Now her syrupy exhalations smell brackish. Children bob and dart along her aisles, scoop sherbet sand into wide-mouthed bags, dive for sugar-shelled treasure. Teenage couples tread water, neon-tanned and liquorice-lipped. Fresh shoals flow into her daily: jelly fish, fizzy sharks, sour dolphins. Her shelves shimmer with toffee-brittle yellows, jawbreaker blues, coral-cane pinks.
She laps them up. These proofs of her ocean persona.
But the clincher is the plastic. Rip-crackle wrappers, bloated pinch-pull packets, hollow spheres choking the gumball machine. All the parts of her that should never be swallowed.
Photographer: Maria Alana
This story helpfull for english learning.