Damn it.
Last night I thought of a good combination title and opening sentence for today's post, but didn't write either down. It's a good thing that I don't write for a living. How long would it take before detestation might set in, or take over. I wonder. Some of what I believe to be my best ideas arrive when I am cycling. The head clears, bad ideas start rolling in.
The picture was taken on Sunday at Terrapin Crossroads, a Grateful Dead themed restaurant in San Rafael, owned by the funny looking one. Laugh at me if you must, at my hippy sensibilities. I love that sort of thing. They have a playground for kids there which lets adults live and breath as such for a bit. You can listen to some music in the sun.
I haven't taken any photos of Raquel in quite a while. She is my favorite.
Love.
It's funny that we've advanced a world that replaces the . behind a term with the # before.
Just texting pretensions. #Love. - starts with a pound, ends with a period.
The sun was out, heading towards setting. The boy and she were playing bocce. Camera with me. So she, so this. Asked her stand in front - between the sun and I, you and I.
CS has spent some time on how to reflect loneliness, the singularnesses visible in each person. I do worry about him - he reads this blog, you know. He is an occasional skeptic of intentions. In that he is not wrong, arch vulnerabilities do exist. We project longings for reification, and find them where we wish.
With Rachel, I didn't bother so much with that. I have seen it all in her, many times before and in advance. I wanted a picture of her, for her, to remember the day - beautiful bruised, so like most. I do ask her to fix her hair, or get dressed, in front of me. She is what I like to look at.
We preferred the way we were that afternoon - easy with one another, having each of us together within the open skies. Who can possibly fault us. The evening slipped more quickly than it told; let on much, said so little.
.
