Shelter and Natural Light
It’s eerily quiet for the middle of a sunny day. In the midst of a pandemic, the quotidian becomes precious. I can better appreciate a mundane scene in which a flower, lovingly cultivated, quietly exists as though a glowing offering to passersby. It is intersected by the soft, angular shadows created by the setting afternoon sun. There is so much space in the air, that broad and bright Bay Area light that renews almost daily and points to optimism, if you can see it that way.
Shelter
We are trying to see things that way. It takes determination, the exercise of staving off despair.
There is so much air in this space, so much air to carry particles. So much air to carry waves of light, and waves of emotion which escape out of cracked windows. Alone together, scared or hurting or sad alone, or maybe together.
Sunlight, Candlelight.
“Making the best of things.” “Feeling grateful for what we have.” “Having a good day, considering.” Everyone uses the cliché of a roller coaster. Everyone says up and down. Everyone is hyper-aware of their temperatures, suddenly more embodied than ever and haunted by the vulnerability of our bodies. It’s not pleasant and makes me sweat.
Yoda Is Watching
In the course of a few minutes these cats exchanged places. In those same few minutes I walked up and down the block, changed the film in my film back. Maybe that’s why the house is two different shades of green. Maybe not. I like knowing both cats saw me. I like knowing I was sighted (probably too much of a stretch to say “noted” - they are cats, after all.) I feel connected to the indoor cat. I have become one.