Rubble, Trouble, and Celestial Evolution at my Door

Dreaming I am driving in the city, a city, the way I dream of New York lately. Houston Street is always a vast 8-lane highway that breaks off in a V, dividing the Lower East Side from the rest of the city. Massive buildings, uneven, bulging, and swaying—thousands and thousands of windows. No room for air. It’s grey, the sky, the city, everything. Even red and yellow have a coat of grey.

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I had most of my hair cut off today . . .

And when I walked into Salvador Calvano’s studio today – holy smokes! First, I met his dog (I forget her name) – she is a darling golden retriever who was chilling out on a red leather couch. How could I not love a sweet doggie? Then – wow – an amazing space – and there is a stage with band equipment! He is ready to jam! And his partner Patty cuts hair, too, and plays ukulele. They are both musicians and artists . . . I haven’t felt so at home in a place in a LONG time.

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