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. 

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