Gillman Barracks
Exactly 5 years ago, a second date that started everything.
Galleries, a young artist who paints with a mirror (“the way you spot imperfections is through inversion”).
That strange short film we watched on deflated beanbags.
Discovering Handlebar. Every weekend a hike and dinner. Those familiar voices behind masks revealing a face through the years.
That day K gave me a ring, I spent the whole night watching it sparkle under the strung-up lights that have illuminated so many of our evenings.
Pearl’s Hill Terrace
My first internship. Climbing up rooftops for a break. Those moss drenched greek statues and abandoned office chairs.
Tacos al fresco, tall minty cocktails, picnics in the park.
Dance classes, hen’s day, up the wet hill with heels for our wedding dance.
An eclectic mix of flyers — tarot, improv, French, pottery, stuffed squirrels.
Memories clattering with impatience even as I rush to create more of them. The cling clang of de(con)struction to come. Massive beaks that paint old things a shiny chrome.
Q 