Child services, schwag, and the American Dream.
Outside a bar on 13th street in Philadelphia, an entire apartment’s worth of detritus laid out on the curb. Clothing, furniture, personal artifacts. A baby book wedged against the concrete depicted years of a young child’s development. Scrawled in the margins were notes about calling social services, going to meetings, and dealing with the realities of young motherhood. Families photos of swaddled babies amidst drug paraphernalia were hastily taped inside. Much of the imagery, and some of the music, in the film comes from both the book and the other objects left aside.
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