the poetry of friendship

While I'm doing fairly well at wafting into the next chapter, there are some 4 a.m. hyperventilations going on about finding the next lily pad and earning an income in the next few weeks.  I put that energy into a non-sunrise walk.

While I know it's not brutally hot here compared to other bits of the country, it has been still/hazy and rather warm for a coastal town.

The new hairs, y'all.

No poem today~just an account of a lovely city evening.  Even lovelier considering my friend has been running a dance camp all week and she still wanted to go to the SF MOMA (it's open late on Thursdays.)

We had an excellent meal at the Samovar Tea Room,

overlooking the Yerba Buena gardens.

My favorite Matisse on exhibit.

We had been joking about how no art is happy and then walked around the corner and found this joy by Joan Miro.

Some Pollack.

Ang's favorite artist is Rothko~she has a print hanging in her office and for years~whenever I see one in a museum, I text a snap to her.  So.  It was a delight to have her and the artist in the same room.

Um.  Much like the hanging snow shovel I saw at MOMA, I cannot explain this pile of mirrored dirt.

I did think that catching my reflection in it was cool and the line "dust to dust" floated through my brain.

When the door is closed~who really cares who is using the toilet? 

The fun balance of Calder.

The amazing live wall.

Ginormous copper somethings. I like to think that they're two-story copper pots for melting chocolate. Wrapping up the island life and heading to the south bay for some more family time prior to returning east.