Rodeo
Before my accident, I rode horses in Michigan — now I ride the energy of the rodeo with my camera mounted to my wheelchair and a shutter release between my teeth. From my view, these young cowboys on bucking broncos and raging bulls aren’t just athletes — they’re a living fantasy. Tight Wranglers hug every curve, massive belt buckles draw the eye to exactly where the heat is, and the dust swirling around them feels almost sinful. When they rope steers, every lasso crack feels like a tease, and when they hold on for dear life, it’s impossible not to watch every twist and grind. I respect their grit and skill — but I won’t lie, I’m a buckle bunny at heart. Rodeo is where my two loves meet: horses and men, muscle and motion, all wrangled into frames that throb with energy (and a little sweat).