Afternoon is hot and lazy. Breezes rise and fall almost imperceptibly. I’m surfing it, mildly.
There’s a wedding party honking up a ruckus in the street, then a fire truck, a bus, a car in reverse, a woman with big headphones ambling along the sidewalk. Each has its sound and its silence. Almost imperceptibly.
Louise Bourgeois, sculptor, mother, wife, woman, ceaseless creator, an undying inspiration for me, died last week. She was 98. One of her works said:
I have been
to hell and
And let me