An ice truck on Sherbrooke St., in the afternoon sun, June 1975. Even on that day, the natural order of things was melting. The truck itself seems to be denying much future, open and severely X'd. But what remains is the beauty and simplicity, the purity of the light. It comes down to a battle between the light and might. What will prevail? Order or chaos. There was no innocence to the moment then, but now I see there was.