Mirrors and Other Things We Look Into

Alexis, Napal and I went to see Eduardo Galeano speak the other evening, and I've been thinking about it ever since.

(pause)

Thursday night, there was a wind storm. While walking down 15th, walking past two EMS trucks and person collapsed on the ground at 10 pm, there was the taste of storm in the air and gusts of spearmint wind that sent sand and pavement into my mouth and eyes.  It was incredible.  

Perhaps I am homesick. Back home, there is a particular way that storms can begin with the smell of trouble mixed with tension: a red bra'ed woman two split seconds away from smashing a wine glass in a living room that is not yours, or hers.   Sometimes the rain comes; sometimes it doesn't.  In this type of storm, it doesn't, and leaves you nervous- wondering if it might.

k.

In process of reading: The Balcony/ J. Genet

Beginning to read: Discipline & Punish/M. Foucault