Barcelona, September 2019

Pentax Spotmatic F, Kodak Gold 200

1. my twin family members, new york ad man tan
2. morning light in office of the church around the corner from our hotel
3. playing on steps of said church
4. playing in plaza in front of said church--we never venture far
5. morning on hotel balcony
6. street between hotel and the cafe and bookstore where friends work
7. vermuts and late lunch at cafe in above mentioned plaza
8. postcard browsing
9. sorbet the afternoon we arrived
10. pre-nap beach stroll
11. semi ruined building full of plants in that big park by their arc de triumph
12. reading bills on steps of said building while we waited for Jesse to bring dinner to hotel
13. still waiting on steps... not a great point in the trip. All three of us threw tantrums.
14. next day back in comfortable plaza writing postcards
15. walking back to hotel from aforementioned cafe where we ate all our meals that weren't picnics
16. building in evening light on walk back from beach

The Day A Man Had A Gun In Front Of Our Apartment And A Famous Photographer Took His Photo

The Day A Man Gave Our Bambi One Hundred Dollars On The 6 Train Between Astor Pl And 14th Street

my tenement kitchen, summer 2019
Chinatown, New York City

Nap time tea amid uncleared breakfast things.

My world has gotten smaller and more full of words. When bambi was so small I spent hours on long distance friendships. I was happy to finally have a community based on beauty, light, darkness, books, lyricisms. Now bambi can talk and my days are filled with the volley of our own lyricisms. We breathlessly gaze out the window, paused mid play to greedily devour a sunset between the spires, the cat outside the winkle shop, a traffic jam of busses.  We list beautiful words, we have drawing parties, we dance wildly to music. And while she naps I write and write and read and read. I have no words leftover to be consumed by people I cannot physically bring myself to see or need. I hope we'll all wait for each other.

This is how my mind feels every day in the city, but especially on book mail day. There are always a few errands and every stop requires fore-planning and thinking about which train station to start and end at to make sure they have elevators so I don't fall and kill both of us carrying bambi in her stroller plus all the items in my tote bags as a result of these errands. Trying to balance less walking on the post errand end of things (easier on my back) with accessible subways or bus routes (also easier on my back). Before I get the things I can walk further, but also that takes more time and how long can a two year old last patiently. Also it is best if I don't walk past playgrounds if we don't have time to stop because that is a bit cruel to her. I have two cans of cat food so that will last me till tomorrow lunch time so I can wait to get more cat food till then. It would be nice to have a scratching pole today but the couch has born the brunt this long, it can last another 24 hours. My time window of toddler attention span just got shorter because she has decided not to nap. So I will definitely wait on the cat food stop. I wish I could figure out where else the non toxic nail polish was sold because I would like to never step foot inside target and it is the reason I would have to get off at Delancy where there is no elevator. But there is an escalator if I exit on the north side of Delancy... its not legal to take the stroller up but I think its actually safer than the stairs. Plus the pigs are too busy arresting poor people to bother with a white mom and her stroller. Fuck them. I know it must be sold elsewhere there's just no way to know and I can't just go into stores indefinitely. That's insane. I absolutely do not want to have to figure this out with a car. This is how I want to be living but I don't think anyone outside the city fully realizes the tactical interior mind of a mother in the city.

I spent the afternoon on the park bench at Hester Commune--now that the water is off for the season she doesn't seem to want to dash madly from zone to zone. I rested in a slim book of poetry and she only got stuck and needed rescuing once. I gazed, exhausted from a week of sickness and the emotional labor of weaning (I thought I'd be less tired because of it...) as she and the other kids play wordless games-- though words are being spoken--do they understand each other? Does my child understand Cantonese? Is it Cantonese? or is it Mandarin? I have no idea. I feel guilt for not knowing. I've lived here for four years and have no deep friendships across racial barriers. I also have no deep friendships within racial barriers but I feel like that is a flimsy argument. I find the language barrier peaceful. That's why Hester Commune is both our favorite park. There are always children to play with and fellow moms (and also grandparents, of both genders, which is so lovely... I want that to soak into Margot's psyche. And my own) to nod and smile broadly and laugh to and with and that is all. A deep mutual admiration of children playing together and no discussion of preschools or--I honestly don't know what people talk about. My meds have been so messed up I have not been able to claw my mind free for over a month. But to be honest, I don't think I've ever known that. I speak in cliches on playgrounds and to "peers" because I've never known. Maybe they do the same because of the same. Or maybe they're idiots, as my anxiety riddled body tells me.

Walking home along the street below the bridge, lined with produce stands and baskets of crabs and all of Chinatown buying both, I first think about the chaotic crowd of people who manage to nearly never run into each other. We are all very good at this. Who needs rules of traffic. Our skills surpass rules.

I see the butterfly. It hovers above a precipitous crate of lychee still on the branch or oranges, I can't remember, all I could think about was how huge it was. Do butterflies grow bigger over the course of summers? do they migrate? how long do they live? It's four inch (I have no idea) wings trembling with tentativity. Tremble is inaccurate because it suggests a lack of confidence (also hunger)... it tasted the atmosphere, languidly. Oh God, was it dying?? It wavered here and there, slowly, just above, I wavered in and out of the masses of shoppers, murmuring to bambi to look, look! She looked and looked at whatever she was gazing on before. It flew up and up. How could I still see it? is it even a butterfly? Maybe a bat? But they don't come out till dusk and it was solidly (liquid) golden hour.  No. I know a butterfly's flight. And I know a bat's. How are my eyes this good right now? It wavered unthinking into the car deck of the bridge. I strained for its reappearance. There! Then back again and out of sight. I realize shivers had travelled the course of my body and and buzzed, hovering on the top of my scalp. I scratch my hair roughly. I cross under the bridge, took a photo of the shock of orange sunlight on the corner kiosk. I cross the street, see a sparrow take off from a tree stunted by sound. Was it a sparrow all along?