To my photographer friend, to all image makers and mystical magicians with camera and lens. With a vision shared. Today is the 9-11 anniversary once again. I have seen countless tributes, images of today, past images of that moment —suspended in time— suspended in my life. Yet, we hold them sacred— that moment. Why? But when we cherish our photographs, scrap books, take longer to dwell on a photo, a pose, a moment suspended in silica or photo paper. Weegee, Avedon, Muybridge… we search for a deeper meaning, code of life.
Back to 9-11. Are we to be remembered by one photograph? Their epitaph frozen to that moment? Is that our contribution to life? They are named hero and courageous… deserved and thrust upon them… and all they wanted to do was kiss their child good morning, tap their head as they go out to school. Go to a quiet dinner with their soul mate and confident. We live for today, our moment, with my daughter— in the rain, the sun, the sunset, the brisk winter morning. If I am rewarded and attributed to that one and only contribution to mankind and life; I would be satisfied because I found it to be an irreplaceable treasure. This is what we should not forget. Remember.
Today I am chasing, running, drinking, coordinating, wanting, feeling, reading.
My guide had an interview. Some intensely Berkeley-sounding interview...
Feeling steamrolled-over. I am finding more and more that I need time and space to mull things over.
One month ago, seven seasons of Gilmore Girls were made available on Netflix. This morning, I finished season seven.
writers... write. Readers... dream they are writers
snow.. rain... stay awhile
I hate being sick because it makes me vulnerable.
Making your own soap.
This morning, friends and strangers got together for a Secret Breakfast Club. We sat in the garden at the Edible Schoolyard started by Alice Waters in Berkeley.