When I was a little girl (late single digits), I tried ardently to mother Katie all around her Brooklyn brownstone; she, ever the more sensible child, shuffled into corners away from me to read the book I remember she always had in her hands. I have always come on too strong and she was one of the first to educate me in that regard. She, as best evidenced in this composition, has much to teach about the value of space.
Katie’s leaving Seattle before I’ve arranged to visit. I should have visited. Back to Brooklyn goes KT. Sigh. Wherever she goes, though, I know she will invent beautifully and I’ll be her eager attendant. I am reading her play now and have attached my favorite of her photographs so far.
Look, see how the tree branch resembles a cord powering the streetlamp? On the blanket, that’s her. And a fellow named Craig who I thought was named Hugh. Sleeping in Seattle with a green Hugh.
I can feel the mood of this picture in my skin. It’s as if I was there.
