Ten.Nine Hundred & Forty-Five

1. Quiet house. Still so many lights on from the night before. Start the coffee. Refill the water bottle.

2. The way light falls in the corners of this house. I miss having white walls. Everything just looks more peaceful.

3. Insta-story. Probably too long. Probably not the best way to do it. Probably no one will listen. But that’s okay. I really did it for me anyway.

4. Fried Chicken.

5. I walk quickly to the museum. Don’t want to be late.

6. Omar Tate. Light bulbs go off in my head. We have to make sure he gets to Oakland soon.

7. I realize that events like these with so many people are just plain hard for me. There’s this weird desire to connect but to also hide, to fade into the background.

8. Four!

9. How do you construct your identity as a black woman? Who are our icons?

10. Rublaison.

11. No little walking man signs.

12. Young Chef. Black Chef. From Jersey and New Orleans. He put sugar in the cornbread and that, to me, is the greatest thing.

13. Table talk.

14. “…know that there is someone, somewhere who believes in you.” - Randall

15. “On a scale of one to ten, how slappin’ was it?” - Rebekah

16. Sore throat from so much talking.

17. At the end of the day, it’s all about narrative.