Friday, February 24, 2012

Cadiz, España

I think of that place and there is a twinge in my heart. I get weak in the knees when I think of its' Sea. I remember the cobble stone roads, los motos, the alley ways; the balconies and how people watched life in slow motion. It was peaceful there, it was intense in culture and hand gestures and besos. Eyes always eyes...they follow you and like Mexico, some of them never let go.

Here I am 12 years later. I am thousands of miles away from its' Sea, las plazas, the blind people that sold lottery tickets next to Zara and Mango, the little cafes and cafe machaos we drank every morning.

I think of this place and it all seems like a dream now. I still remember my first night. I think I went to a little pub below the residencia where I lived. I was with a red haired gal from Michigan. The pub was as big as my room. I think it was a Friday or Saturday. There was so much noise. Life was loud in that little town..people walking, lovers giggling, old men arguing about soccer, young kids actually living as young kids. This was not America....nothing of the kind. I sat there...I was quiet for a long time...I was never the same.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Monday Love Day

It's 7:20pm. Where did the day go? Crazy busy Monday and I didn't repinn anything. I didn't even view Pintrest before 5pm OMG...Insanity. I was inspired to write the following A-Z of what I am thankful for. I thought it would just roll out of me, but it was hard. I mean there are so many things I'm thankful for, but A-Z was some heavy shizzle-I stumbled on a few. Here is what I've come up with. Happy Monday to all. My house is quiet and cold...I am alone tonight. This is a good space.

A Art in every shape, color and form
D Diego of course
Employment(mine)and Etsy
Friends (duh..only the good ones) and Family
Greenlake and garlic fries
Humor and my hands (ability to create)
Insurance and individualism
Naps and nostalgia
Orgasm (dare I say it on the world wide web)
Patience, poets and poetry
Quiet time
Recuerdos (memories)
Solitude and sisters
Teachers and Thomas Schille
Words, Water, walks

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Her Voice....

Every morning on the way to drop D off, I pass a wall in Fremont. I stare at it every morning and I've wanted to take pictures there for months. Yesterday I noticed that part of the wall had been ripped off so I knew I better shoot her before She was gone. In my eyes she tells a story of strength, hope, anger, and Freedom...At the end of my shoot with Papa D, I saw a man with a sinister smile on his face and he was walking aimlessly with a hammer. I knew our time was over. Paz.