alpine wildflowers, moni and trudy, 1958.

building, uc, 2020.

the wildflowers are 62 years old, 2 years older than me. what if someone were to press me between papers and preserve me—but that's silly, i'm not a flower. 

the building i just snapped from the firescape balcony. a starling was looking at me but leapt into the sky when the firedoor banged in the wind on the rail. every day they put a new layer on those stacked boxes. i don't like the built world yet i like buildings. rather my mind is split on the built world. i guess i don't like progress and expansion, gentrification—and grieve what the built world displaces.

there is poignancy and an indefinite likeness in unlike things.