Waiting, Berkeley, CA. This was a moment during which my kid and I were waiting for the BART train into the city to go see a holiday dance show. For minutes on end we watched people descend the escalator: first shoes, then legs, then torso, then whole person. Could have
Self portrait with carp. In times of distess, or even just aimlessness, I head to the local nursery. Lately, in the gradual, curious return of everyday life in the post-Prop 8 limbo, I find myself there a lot. Â The other day I brought along the boy child, after having
Pancake hearts, made as antidote to Prop 8 hate, mid-campaign. After my mom died (now over fifteen years ago), I was thrust into that heightened state of awareness one has in the wake of the death of someone close. The world carries on as if nothing’s changed, except you’re rocked