Sunday, October 28, 2018

Week in Seven Words #432

The art installation is a spider-like creature risen from a shallow pool, its skinny legs dimpling the water.

It's amazing to discover a rapport with someone who's different in many ways. We have a low-key, comfortable relationship.

With a roar, the boy charges at the pigeons. After they scatter, he wanders away looking confused, as if suffering from a loss of purpose.

In a hoarse voice, he talks about the 1960s, and at first I don't see the point in what he's saying and why it's relevant to the discussion. Then I get it, as he describes what he calls the fight for the nation's identity. He's tying it to his personal fight, to the risks he's taken to find his own identity – not a set of labels to fix to himself, but discoveries unearthed from a torn up landscape.

At the square, over a dozen people roller-skate in formation, past a guy with a "Jesus loves you!" placard fixed to his chest. Near him, another guy sits on the steps in small sweatpants, his pale ass spilling out. A group of Buddhist monks (or men dressed as monks) burn incense and press flyers onto people. The farmer's market is packing up to the sound of skateboards cracking against the pavement. Homeless people lie on their sides on benches, socks out, looking exhausted.

The three of us play Quicktionary and can barely speak sometimes because of how hard we're laughing.

The baby is delighted to look at my photo, but regards the real-life version with caution.