Caught and tangled

Saw the nearly-full moon tangled in a tree where crows were massing to fly downtown for the night. They've learned to travel in large groups because downtown businessmen have engaged the services of raptor-keepers, but the crows are winning. Virginia Woolf's lines came to mind: "Who shall measure the heat and violence of the poet's heart when caught and tangled in a woman's body?"

I'd been to visit Aimee, the artist, in her new apartment. She lost her job as a nanny due to Covid, and the parents she worked for are now working from home and don't need a nanny. She had to move out of her apartment into a place she shares with two other people, their dog and her cat. She has made the best of it and has created an environment to thrive in--strings of lights and swaths of fabric, an antique mirror, some postcards of Dorothea Lange's photographs, art supplies. Yet there is a definite feeling of being caught and tangled.

I asked her if she has a plan. She laughed, "With the billionaires threatening to start nuclear war, who's making plans?" She made a new portrait of me for my profiles, now that I've let my hair grow.

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