Slow dying is miserable business.

Mi abuela is in the hospital again. I gave up recording here her trips back and forth from the hospital to the nursing home, and I think I have lost count myself ( Read more... )

Crossing Manhattan Bridge this morning on the D-train, listening to the Flaming Lips on my mp3 player, listening to the echoing words "the sun eclipsed behind the clouds", I admired the awkward off-balance perch of brown-haired nerdy girl with her hair in a bun and her black glasses close to her eyes, looking like an emaciated turtle in her ( Read more... )

Read This: In the beginning . . . Adam walked with dinosaurs



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