Saturday, August 23, 2014

finding my people

This is an ocean of white. Published, the ocean is lettering. The rest becomes black. I was sitting in a bar drinking soda water and eating fish and chips feeling like the festive millenials weren't me. That I didn't belong to them. But that barista in Oakland, her and I both apologized a lot. We kept apologizing for our apologies and then to the yogi behind us, we apologized. I'm sorry. No, I'm sorry. Love means never having to say you're sorry. I'm sorry then.