Saturday, March 19, 2016

I’ve been meaning to write something about public space as domestic space over the past 8, even 10 years--about the way the limits of what we imagine as intimate have stretched, ballooned, really, as we’ve traveled the world, people with a small, shared shell. I don’t know why I’ve been meaning to write this, exactly, or what I want to say. I guess it's one of those things that’s nagged at me, that’s seemed to make my life different from that of lots of other people’s lives. As I sought "normality," sometimes without meaning or wanting to. Without realizing what it even meant. Part of what I'm talking about bathrooms. Semi-public showers, etc. And other intimacies like playing, or fighting. The paper-thin walls of my office come to mind, listening to my colleague talk trash, affirm her faith, sing along with the radio. 

Me rowing

Photo credit, my friend since 1988 and recent visitor Kathleen!

Tallulah at Coral World

Photo credit, my awesome former student Shayna.