MIST GHOSTS

 

There sure has been a lot of strange weather patterns of late. Instead of planning my days accordingly, I let the drastic drama throw me off guard. In the middle of a storm, I stopped my car on the Richmond Bridge that goes from Oakland to Marin. I couldn't believe how everything looked black and white. Like a black and white film, I took pictures on my little plastic film camera, stopping time as cars were racing by on the bridge. I stopped to capture the monochromaticness, and took a few deep breaths knowing that this is the same spot that many jump to take their life. Year after year.  I was feeling all of the ghosts. After the bridge, I drove straight up to the Oakland hills and watched the clouds pass through the trees. Chasing the ghosts. The night before I was caught on muddy roads in Bolinas, watching jammers jam at a wooden house party, and woke up to a aqua-eyed kat named Stevie.