“Nice boots,” he says.
“Thanks,” she says. “They’re really old, more than 10 years. I rarely wear them.”
“Old shoes can be the most comfortable.”
“Actually, they’re not. They do make my feet hurt.”
“I used to have these Frye motorcycle boots, with the zipper, ankle-high. I thought they were pretty hip at the time. Every time I wore them I couldn’t walk the next day.”
“Beauty is pain.”
“You must be used to suffering.”
Conversation Snippet
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
5/30/2009 Quote
"...only a few handfuls of students now enter Yale with an authentic passion for reading. You cannot teach someone to love great poetry if they come to you without such a love. How can you teach solitude?"
From The Western Cannon by Harold Bloom
From The Western Cannon by Harold Bloom
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Chalk on Sidewalk
Nathan, an art student, is drawing a chalk commercial for Made with Love on the curving sidewalk at the corner of Jersey Ave. & Newark Ave. He is replicating the logo of Made with Love, the Organic Bakery & Café on Jersey Ave. It was the start of Memorial Day weekend, and the streetscape project had progressed down the east side of Jersey Ave, removing the concrete in front of Made with Love, giving the establishment a dirt entrance. Presumably, foot traffic for Made with Love was impacted. Was the chalk on sidewalk to remind pedestrians the bakery/cafe was still opened?
“No, I drew it once before.”
What's it like to work with concrete?
“Sometimes the sidewalks can have a rough surface. This wears down the chalk, makes it harder to draw.”
It was a brilliantly sunny Saturday morning, but rain was predicted for Sunday. He puts time and effort into something that by its nature is temporary. I wondered how he felt, as an artist, about this temporal aspect of chalk on sidewalk. “You get to do it all over again and that’s fun.”
“No, I drew it once before.”
What's it like to work with concrete?
“Sometimes the sidewalks can have a rough surface. This wears down the chalk, makes it harder to draw.”
It was a brilliantly sunny Saturday morning, but rain was predicted for Sunday. He puts time and effort into something that by its nature is temporary. I wondered how he felt, as an artist, about this temporal aspect of chalk on sidewalk. “You get to do it all over again and that’s fun.”
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Cuts & Stabs
M- worked at a head hunter firm in Manhattan. She was there seven years. The company, which has offices throughout Europe and the United States, is an employment agency specializing in Executive job placement—high level executives, mid-to-high six figure salaries (often higher) in top companies in all sectors of the economy, especially Healthcare, Technology and Finance. She was gaining seniority and could be considered a junior to mid-level executive. The job requires researching companies and individuals, then the process of match making the individual with the position. The companies were the clients who paid for this exclusive head hunting service.
Around 2006, company management changed and she was one of the last ones left from the old regime. Tensions never ceased between the newcomers and the veterans. Executives based in Manhattan and the New York offices of companies had a corporate culture that was more blunt and straight forward, like New York. The new regime saw corporate culture as interchangeable worldwide, and there was more emphasis on following rigid protocols and pecking orders. This is business after all, so there wasn’t so much of a contradiction but still, a clash of perceptions on the role of individual initiative persisted. There were eruptions, feelings were hurt, people insulted. Then work went on.
M-‘s immediate superior was of the new regime and they never liked each other. They did a lot of the same work—research, assessment, client contact—but M- was always the better performer which for the newcomer was fine. Occasional conflicts could be overlooked because in the end, her work ethic and positive results made him look better.
Being in Manhattan, about half of the firm’s business was in the financial sector, an understandably higher percentage than their offices in other cities. The summer of 2008 is remembered for a heated election where the republicans increasingly looked foolish and the democrats increasingly looked better and the economy was melting down. Ground zero for the meltdown was the financial sector. Banks failing, mortgage crisis, bail out fund legislation, we all remember the drill (how can we forget, it’s still going on!).
Hard to have pity for banking and financial company executives and their rapidly shrinking job market. Companies weren’t replacing executives, or adding executives, they were cutting whole departments. For every executive gone, there could be dozens of other employees that executive was in charge of; they lose their jobs too. M-‘s company was hit hard. Executives of all type were under fire and less in demand, job prospects going from dim to black but the New York office, with its heavy financial industry involvement, suffered the worse.
One wave of lay offs, then another. Early October, M- explained to me the dismal situation. “I wasn’t sure I would survive the last one, now everyone is over-worked. I miss the ones who were friends.”
Three departments now shared one secretary where before, each department had a secretary and each secretary an assistant. There were two junior employees, entry level right out of college types who also were part of those early waves of lay offs.
In other times, higher-ups who have to fire employees console themselves when turnover is higher because it brings in new blood and injects a new energy. True, but not the whole truth because training new employees and the time it takes for the new employee to adapt impedes productivity. In small doses it can help and in large doses it will hinder.
These days, turnover is turning but not over. The equilibrium is off. There are more workers going out than coming in. Those employed have no hope of any increase in salary in the foreseeable future, their work loads have increased and the gloom and doom, paranoid atmosphere only escalates.
By November, M- lost her position. It’s a high toned firm, she got one of the best severance packages I’ve ever heard about. She’s married and her husband’s position is secure and well paying. She’s not as bad off as many or even most who’ve lost their jobs due to the current economy. But, it always sucks to lose your job and it especially sucks to lose your job right before the Christmas holidays, when you are supposed to be celebrating and you are spending more money than usual and even a bad job market is worsened by the fact that few companies do any hiring until after the New Year.
Her immediate superior was the one who cut the position. “We never got a long. Cuts were mandated from on high. The earlier cuts weren’t enough.”
She made nice dough so her removal easily fulfilled mandated budgetary tightening requirements. The mid-levels left were now all from the new regime. The economy made it easy for the immediate superior to fulfill the back stabbing fantasy he held ever since the new regime took over the Manhattan office.
M- holds an annual Christmas party. It’s a gathering of her and her husband’s friends from work and social circles and their previous lives. I fit in the latter. Merry Christmas and how do you know M- are the ice breakers. In a way, it was keeping up appearances, but in another way it was a phenomena I’ve been seeing lately, we’re going to survive, we are not going to let the economy ruin everything. This party had that against all odds we will survive quality.
Past parties, there were the secretaries and junior employees along with the higher ups. This year there was only one from the Head Hunter firm, higher up, the gentlemen who hired her seven years ago. “Madoff seems to be the last straw,” he told me (the Madoff scandal coming to light was at full throttle). “This was news New York didn’t need.”
He’s a nice guy, I’ve talked to him once or twice before at an M- gathering. Graying hair, wine lover, stays in shape, just turned sixty, smart businessman. “I am doing things that I haven’t done in more than ten years, and I still have to do everything all upper managers have to do. I’m sharing a secretary. I’m writing letters. And, it’s not like I have less emails to answer.”
What is morale like? “Terrible. I’ve never seen it so bad, it self perpetuates but there are bigger problems to deal with than morale. You can’t worry about morale, and as a manager, I know that not worrying about it just makes morale worse, but that’s the situation.”
The immediate superior who cut M- was let go in February. Basically, a whole department that employed more than a dozen college educated people is now gone and there’s not even a glimmer of hope of those jobs ever coming back.
Today, the New York office is populated almost entirely by people who do not know or appreciate New York corporate culture—the same culture they are supposed to service.
And M-? She’s freelancing, applying research skills of executives for a fund raising project. She’s in her 40s. “I want to start something that I have more control over. Companies put people out to pasture at age 50, even in better times.”
Around 2006, company management changed and she was one of the last ones left from the old regime. Tensions never ceased between the newcomers and the veterans. Executives based in Manhattan and the New York offices of companies had a corporate culture that was more blunt and straight forward, like New York. The new regime saw corporate culture as interchangeable worldwide, and there was more emphasis on following rigid protocols and pecking orders. This is business after all, so there wasn’t so much of a contradiction but still, a clash of perceptions on the role of individual initiative persisted. There were eruptions, feelings were hurt, people insulted. Then work went on.
M-‘s immediate superior was of the new regime and they never liked each other. They did a lot of the same work—research, assessment, client contact—but M- was always the better performer which for the newcomer was fine. Occasional conflicts could be overlooked because in the end, her work ethic and positive results made him look better.
Being in Manhattan, about half of the firm’s business was in the financial sector, an understandably higher percentage than their offices in other cities. The summer of 2008 is remembered for a heated election where the republicans increasingly looked foolish and the democrats increasingly looked better and the economy was melting down. Ground zero for the meltdown was the financial sector. Banks failing, mortgage crisis, bail out fund legislation, we all remember the drill (how can we forget, it’s still going on!).
Hard to have pity for banking and financial company executives and their rapidly shrinking job market. Companies weren’t replacing executives, or adding executives, they were cutting whole departments. For every executive gone, there could be dozens of other employees that executive was in charge of; they lose their jobs too. M-‘s company was hit hard. Executives of all type were under fire and less in demand, job prospects going from dim to black but the New York office, with its heavy financial industry involvement, suffered the worse.
One wave of lay offs, then another. Early October, M- explained to me the dismal situation. “I wasn’t sure I would survive the last one, now everyone is over-worked. I miss the ones who were friends.”
Three departments now shared one secretary where before, each department had a secretary and each secretary an assistant. There were two junior employees, entry level right out of college types who also were part of those early waves of lay offs.
In other times, higher-ups who have to fire employees console themselves when turnover is higher because it brings in new blood and injects a new energy. True, but not the whole truth because training new employees and the time it takes for the new employee to adapt impedes productivity. In small doses it can help and in large doses it will hinder.
These days, turnover is turning but not over. The equilibrium is off. There are more workers going out than coming in. Those employed have no hope of any increase in salary in the foreseeable future, their work loads have increased and the gloom and doom, paranoid atmosphere only escalates.
By November, M- lost her position. It’s a high toned firm, she got one of the best severance packages I’ve ever heard about. She’s married and her husband’s position is secure and well paying. She’s not as bad off as many or even most who’ve lost their jobs due to the current economy. But, it always sucks to lose your job and it especially sucks to lose your job right before the Christmas holidays, when you are supposed to be celebrating and you are spending more money than usual and even a bad job market is worsened by the fact that few companies do any hiring until after the New Year.
Her immediate superior was the one who cut the position. “We never got a long. Cuts were mandated from on high. The earlier cuts weren’t enough.”
She made nice dough so her removal easily fulfilled mandated budgetary tightening requirements. The mid-levels left were now all from the new regime. The economy made it easy for the immediate superior to fulfill the back stabbing fantasy he held ever since the new regime took over the Manhattan office.
M- holds an annual Christmas party. It’s a gathering of her and her husband’s friends from work and social circles and their previous lives. I fit in the latter. Merry Christmas and how do you know M- are the ice breakers. In a way, it was keeping up appearances, but in another way it was a phenomena I’ve been seeing lately, we’re going to survive, we are not going to let the economy ruin everything. This party had that against all odds we will survive quality.
Past parties, there were the secretaries and junior employees along with the higher ups. This year there was only one from the Head Hunter firm, higher up, the gentlemen who hired her seven years ago. “Madoff seems to be the last straw,” he told me (the Madoff scandal coming to light was at full throttle). “This was news New York didn’t need.”
He’s a nice guy, I’ve talked to him once or twice before at an M- gathering. Graying hair, wine lover, stays in shape, just turned sixty, smart businessman. “I am doing things that I haven’t done in more than ten years, and I still have to do everything all upper managers have to do. I’m sharing a secretary. I’m writing letters. And, it’s not like I have less emails to answer.”
What is morale like? “Terrible. I’ve never seen it so bad, it self perpetuates but there are bigger problems to deal with than morale. You can’t worry about morale, and as a manager, I know that not worrying about it just makes morale worse, but that’s the situation.”
The immediate superior who cut M- was let go in February. Basically, a whole department that employed more than a dozen college educated people is now gone and there’s not even a glimmer of hope of those jobs ever coming back.
Today, the New York office is populated almost entirely by people who do not know or appreciate New York corporate culture—the same culture they are supposed to service.
And M-? She’s freelancing, applying research skills of executives for a fund raising project. She’s in her 40s. “I want to start something that I have more control over. Companies put people out to pasture at age 50, even in better times.”
Monday, May 25, 2009
5/25/2009 Quote
“Music can define life itself, and it has indeed defined my life. In life, as in art, there are recurring themes, transpositions. repetitions, unexpected developments, all converging to define a 'form' that’s not necessarily apparent until its ending has come and gone.”
From Searching for the Sound by Phil Lesh
From Searching for the Sound by Phil Lesh
Bob Dylan: Together Through Life
Dim light. The border town cafe is tacky and dingy but at least it’s clean. You’ve been hanging out in this place for as long as you can remember. Smoking is still allowed. There’s the smell of smoke mixed in with the aromas of whiskey, tequila and beer. The talk becomes a whisper when the band meanders on the stage. The accordion player is new, you recognize the guitarist. The familiar voice of the singer is rougher than ever, but he’s as happy to see the crowd as the crowd is to see him.“Together Through Life” is Bob Dylan’s most atmospheric album. The project started with the song, “Life is Hard,” which Dylan wrote for a film by French director, Olivier Dahan. He then enlisted Robert Hunter, the Grateful Dead Lyricist and writing partner of Jerry Garcia and quickly recorded this inspired collection of songs. David Hilgado, from the great Los Lobos, plays accordion, giving the same sort of inventive and distinctive texture that Al Kooper’s organ gave “Blonde on Blonde” or Scarlet Rivera’s violin gave “Desire.” The progenitor track, “Life is Hard,” is a European cabaret sounding ballad, where the accordion is perfectly normal. Dylan then traverses back to his more usual landscape of American blues. Dylan’s most recent records, “Modern Times” and “Love & Theft,” feature an accomplished mosaic of styles—rock and roll, crooner ballads, and various iterations of blues. “Together Through Life” is also a pastiche, although the blues predominate. The accordion and lonesome lyrics about love amidst desolation augment the end-of-the-line, border town, feel while also exploring the rarely acknowledged common ground of Tex-Mex music and Blues.
“Beyond Here Lies Nothin’” begins the journey in a rockin sort of samba on a melody line that reminds me of the song by the Sonny Boy Williamson (I think #2) “Stop Me From Talkin,” which Dylan played in an infamous version on the David Letterman show in the 80s. Mike Campbell, the guitarist in Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, plays some searing guitar. In this song in particular, there is a grooving interchange of riffs between the accordion and the guitar. David Herron, who is with the great BR459 and is a multi-instrumentalist, plays a real sour sounding trumpet, reminiscent of those salvation army revival horns on “Blonde on Blonde.” The narrator, at times cajoling—and other times, consoling—his lover, “pretty baby,” that no matter how bleak the present might seem, the present is all they have: “your love is my throne/beyond here lies nothin/nothin we can call our own.”
Hunter has previously collaborated with Dylan. “Silvio,” a Dylan/Hunter collaboration, is considered kind of a light weight addition to the canon, nonetheless in the mid-90s concert performances, Silvio was often the climatic rocker of the show. Dylan is said to have found the lyric in a Hunter notebook and just added the music. The credits on “Together Through Life” specify that Hunter wrote only the lyrics, but unlike “Silvio” the lyrics are obviously not the sole creation of Hunter.
Dylan’s most recent period of songwriting began with “Time Out of Mind” in 1997, which followed years of intensive touring, two acoustic cover albums and the mixed-bag of 80s releases. “I’m Walkin through streets that are dead,” the opening lyric of “Love Sick,” began “Time Out of Mind.” The “Time out of Mind” songs revolved around a another Dylan drifter persona—world weary, older and devoted to love but acknowledging the pain love can cause. For the most part, the best songs on “Time Out of Mind,” and the two follow ups, featured the same narrator. Rimbaud, one of Dylan’s biggest influences, in his letters and best prose poems, speaks of the “I is Another,” essentially objectifying the self of the author, thus universalizing the personal. The dividing line between the subjective and the objective dissolves; the question of what is and isn’t autobiographical becomes mute. Rimbaud’s American contemporary and not accidentally another obvious influence of Dylan, Walt Whitman, while not as self-conscious as the Frenchman on the question of what is self, takes the same means to universalize a personal experience. Song of the Self is not about what is the self, but defines the self as part of the whole of Human Existence as well as Whitman’s 19th century American experience. We can see this same approach in scores of important works of literature—Delmore Schwartz, Henry Miller, Allen Ginsberg. Hemingway, with his Nick Adams stories uses a third person narrator as a stand in for the author, but those stories are likewise both autobiography and universal. A similar mechanism is at work in Kerouac, whether the narrator is Paradise or Dulouz. Robert Johnson epitomized the same approach in songwriting—who is the “I” in “Crossroads,” Robert Johnson or the persona that sings about the struggle of the dark night of the soul blues performers go through during the journeys between sin and salvation.
If the I in “Together Through Life” is the same person as the one we hear from on Blood on the Tracks and other Dylan works perhaps future scholars can debate. Enough similarities exist to make the case; all writers do sort of keep writing new variations on old themes. However, the persona wandering the desolate landscapes on “Together Through Life” is surely the same guy walking around in the previous three records. In many of the songs he wrote with Jerry Garcia, Hunter was adept at giving voice to the losers and down and outers who populate the Dead’s version of our invisible republic that is vaguely 19th century and a desolate, hard-scrabble and luckless landscape away from the urban centers of culture and commerce. Hunter is as fluent in the archaic language used in old folk songs as Dylan. Hunter’s contribution is seamless. The use of a first person narrator makes these songs immediate, intensifying the emotional impact. The songs feel personal, and that is an inventive accomplishment, and a rare one for the product of co-authorship.
“Hell is My Wife’s Hometown” takes its melody from “I Just Want to Make Love to You,” a Muddy Waters song written by Willie Dixon, whose estate is listed in the songwriting credit. Hidalgo’s accordion mimics the harmonica lines performed by the great Little Walter on the Muddy original, creating a spooky yet recognizable mood. Like most of these songs, it’s a crazy yarn, about the strange and destructive things love makes you do, starting off with “I didn’t come here to deal with a doggone thing/I just came here to hear the drop of simple rain,” soon the woman changes him - “She can make you steal, make you rob/Give you the hives, make you lose your job... One of these days I’ll end up on the run/I'm pretty sure she'll make me kill someone.” Still, the narrator declares, “My love for her is all I know,” and even though the “State’s gone broke, the county's dry” he is staying, although warning listeners, “Keep on walking, don’t be hanging around/I’m tellin you again that hell’s my wife’s home town.”
My favorite song on the album is “I Feel A Change Comin' On.” built around what sounds like a classic Dylan hook. It starts off with the narrator again, “I see my baby comin'/she's walking with the village priest.” I keep thinking, the priest is either advising her to marry this guy or to leave this guy. The guy is in love with this woman, but has another classic Dylan conflict, love vs. friendship. “We got so much in common/we strive for the same old ends/And I just can't wait/wait for us to become friends,” and in a really fun lyrical twist suggest to her, “If you wanna live easy/Baby, pack your clothes with mine.”
What seems to be open-ended is what happens to this couple. Of course, the open-ended story is not unknown to Dylan, and Hunter really mastered this device. The “plot” so to speak, is told through impressions, the case here – “Well now what's the use in dreaming/You got better things to do/Dreams never did work for me anyway/Even when they did come true.” Is she dreaming about marrying him or a better life that could be hers without him? We never find out, the song then veers into hilarious Dylan weirdness – “You are as porous as ever/Baby you can start a fire/I must be losing my mind/You're the object of my desire,” and then the way-out name checking: “I'm listening to Billy Joe Shaver/And I’m reading James Joyce/Some people they tell me I got the blood of the land in my voice.”
What does this mean? He’s crazy to be in love, he acknowledges that that he is old and has a sense of wisdom, which I suppose one needs to appreciate both Shaver and Joyce. What exactly is the mind set? I don’t know, but perhaps exactly is the wrong way to look at a Dylan (or Hunter) lyric. It’s up to the listener to decide the state of affairs between the narrator and this woman he loves. What is unclear is how advanced is this relationship—does he want to have one, or do they have one and now it’s marriage or good bye? What is the village priest recommending, or since that image begins the yarn, is all this should I stay or should I go scenario just a projection the narrator is jumping to because he sees the gal talking with an authority figure and becomes romantically paranoid?
The concluding lyrics offer little clarification to the specifics, yet ties up the song nicely. We get a picture of the down and out, sad narrator. “Everybody got all the money/Everybody got all the beautiful clothes/Everybody got all the flowers/I don't have one single rose.” Not exactly the best candidate for marriage, certainly not somebody glad to see the local padre with his ‘baby’. He can’t offer the woman anything more than love. The chorus of the song –“I feel a change comin' on/and the fourth part of the day's already gone,” implies that things will soon be different. But what is that change, what will be the difference, that’s up to us and perhaps the song arrangement and the vocal delivery of the singer. After a romantic entanglement, Dylan characters often end up wiser, but alone “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” & “Tangled Up in Blue,” come to mind. The guys there wind up “walking down that lonesome road,” or “heading to another joint.” The “I Feel a Change Comin’ On” guy probably won’t leave the village, will continue to be shunned by the priest and stay alone, with his country music records and literary books.
The diversity of blues on the record include “If You Ever Go To Houston” a snappy blues shuffle, “Jolene,” a searing blues rocker and “Shake Mama Shake” that seems right out of Chess records, channeling a Chuck Berry melody. “It’s all Good” is a quasi-topical Dylan rocker that examines popular jargon It’s All Good and reveals the arrogance of that saying, which has seemed to permeate our lives. There’s a subtlety in the lyrics – “big politicians telling lies/restaurant kitchen filled with flies” – leaving the listener to surmise that with all these things so wrong, the only way everything can be ‘all’ good is to ignore and deny the world. It’s fitting that “It’s all Good” concludes “Together Through Life.” The central theme of the album may be the struggle for love, but for the poet, the world is not to be ignored and in fact, not denying the suffering and injustice in the world is part of the struggle of romantic love. After depicting the different romantic experiences in the twilight of his years that have occurred either in or on the way to this forlorn border town, the poet transcends his “self” and takes on the self-absorbed, media-drenched society we live in, and assails us for our false self-satisfaction that is blinding us to unfairness and misery, doing so with Dylan’s trademark bite of sardonic humor. He’s seen it all, he’s seen it before, he no longer lets it anger him but he is still compelled to give voice to those in distress and ridiculing those causing distress.
Dylan’s ragged voice—it has never sounded more raspy—second to perhaps the accordion, is the distinguishing feature of this album. He uses his phlegmatic death rattle in his phrasing, accentuating his world-weary attitude that accompanies his journey through the ultimate and timeless human dilemma—the secrets of the human heart.
Within his new hoarseness, Dylan also displays a rare warmth and affability. He weirdly laughs on “Hell is My Wife’s Home Town,” and busts out a heartfelt “whew!” to the band as it kicks it into gear on “It’s All Good.” This charming folksiness Dylan has heretofore only demonstrated on his marvelous Sirus Radio show or on his duet with Mavis Staples (and the Carter Family & Jimmy Rodgers tribute introduction) on the version of “Gonna Change My Way Thinkin,” on the “Gospel Songs of Bob Dylan,” a tribute album of a few years ago. Unlike the previous three albums, the lone narrator is more interested in the happiness—complex and often exists more in appearance than in substance—that comes from love than the despair, the love sickness, that love also can produce. Dylan is having a noticeably good time on “Together Through Life.”
It’s pretty hard to claim at this point Dylan is redefining his career. He’s done that a few times already, so many times that the redefinition is irrelevant. Few have had such a long and fruitful run—since about 1963—and he’s still writing and performing in ways that are challenging and uncompromising. The last twelve years or so has been one of his most sustained and richest periods of creativity. Not only did the new record premier at number one, but when he finally performed a song from it during his recent European tour—“If You Ever Go To Houston,” it was as the first encore, the spotlight slot of any performer. There’s a whole bunch of fans now more excited for new Dylan than to hear the legend’s latest rendition of “Like A Rolling Stone.”
Clearly, Dylan is having a lot of fun and he is expressing that fun with a refreshingly cordial wit. Rarely has he been so inviting, And, almost as rarely, he has an audience willing to be invited, willing to appreciate without precondition his latest muse. In the Tex-Mex spiced blues ballad, “This Dream of You,” he sings “in an all night cafe, as night turns into day.” Anyone who wants to be in that cafe is in that cafe and having a wonderful time.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Scenes from Newark Ave. Streetscaping
I don’t really know why I take these pictures. It’s basically where I walk just about every day. The shovel-ready streetscape project is underway. I like to watch construction. I try to notice things, like how a section is done—old sidewalks torn up and new sidewalk cement poured—but it is not sequential. The section that is worked on after one section is completed is not the section right next to the finished one, it’s down the street. Some stores have had a dirt sidewalk entrance for weeks, others are already scaped. Unfair, yet it does seem systematic. I guess I’ll keep taking these pictures and rounding them every so often. I won’t post them in order either. Just scenes, moments of transformation. Hard work. How did we get here from there? One day, another day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
