still no Leica

I drove down to Hope alone one day to hike real high up a mountain and a guy saw my camera and offered to take my photo. He had a camera himself, a Leica actually, and I had a strange thought, what if he gives me his camera? To keep…

He didn’t—instead he took my photo, with my camera (not the Leica) so here’s me, without a Leica (but still hoping he’d give me the Leica).

city lights

The buildings in cities make us feel small, but the stars would make the buildings shrink to nearly nothing. If only we could see them.

looking out

From Ross Gay’s Book of Delights

_______________

I suppose I could spend time theorizing how it is that people are not bad to each other, but that's really not the point. The point is that in almost every instance of our lives, our social lives, we are, if we pay attention, in the midst of an almost constant, if subtle, caretaking.

Holding open doors. Offering elbows at crosswalks.

Letting someone else go first. Helping with the heavy bags. Reaching what's too high, or what's been dropped.

Pulling someone back to their feet. Stopping at the car wreck, at the struck dog. The alternating merge, also known as the zipper. This caretaking is our default mode and it's always a lie that convinces us to act or believe otherwise. Always.

(Mar. 2)