|a good way to start the day, if only.|
I woke so early for no reason, and now am perched at K's desk slurping an Evian. The windows are wide open and the fan is going - makes the morning feel almost like July. Last night we were carving a watermelon, breaking it down into plastic containers; I ate the flesh off so many slivers of rind that afterwards I napped until 3am. When I awoke he was heading to bed, and we just caught, or just missed, each other.
Lately there have been a lot of apples in my life. Huge granny smiths, eaten as I walk down the street, a setting which otherwise makes me conscious of eating. Yesterday I read a New Yorker article about a schizophrenic woman who ate 12 apples a day, harvested water from snow, and finally died alone in an abandoned house. An example of the ways we fail our mentally ill. When she was discharged, "to protect her privacy", her family was not notified, nor did they ask where she was going.
JR, the artist who awed me with his Rio project, has come to NY. Bergen St in Brooklyn to be exact.
BK (the Inside Out project):
photo: dearmachine@etsy, nytimes