Last Friday (4/23) the wild winds were blowing and women all around us were in tears. Erin lost her phone for a moment and Ophra landed for a moment, only just long enough to bring another's feet a little bit closer to the ground. We talked and drank tea and warmed up in Erin's space, surrounded by flowers and skeletons and explosive Bulgarian art. The time to head to the park presented itself, and so we hopped on our bikes, arriving at the exact moment that the cops were pulling away, having locked up not just for the night, but possibly for the rest of the summer.
So the project is an interesting one already.
Ophra considers jumping the fence, but follows Erin and the wind around the corner, to the pier just North of the park. We watch the water, Sweet Cherry Pie or something of the sort playing from the car twenty feet to the right, like a stage carpet for the working men with beers. We are mainly quiet, then eventually cold. What to make of it all? And yet the communication deepens.
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