200318
I had just, or was about to
trade a
cyanotype print for my first
homemade mask. 
​
​Too
scared and too
uncertain to go to the
laundromat; I washed
pillowcases in a
​recycling bin with boiling water. I then
watched them
dry on my
ceiling fan. 
Convinced that this was my
​new
​routine—I purchased a
​manual
​washing machine. 

25 MARCH 2020 
if you were going . . .
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done in the kitchen
200314
my
​relationship with street
​photography has been
​timid since 2015. 
​
​It
manifested at the end of what was a month long,
solo, WWOOF trip in
New Mexico. I stayed overnight at a
hostile before my
​flight back to
Wisconsin.  I'd describe myself as
shy then, so I felt
embarrassed when another overnighter 
sternly assured that I
not be taking photos of the guests. I was
startled, but I also felt a plea of
​procreation.

I've
​followed
unspoken rules since then. I bent my own
boundaries for this photo. I wanted to
preserve what I felt was a
finite moment of
peace. We were early into
lockdown here. I didn’t know
him, I don’t know
him, but I know the
solidarity I felt with
​him that day.
one or two
heinekens in. 
​
​I made the worst
​soup and noodle dinner, but I
​enjoyed the night with my
​best friends.
my reflection in the
​bathroom mirror. 
​
I
know I’m not wearing
PJs. I may have been
inspired to document my
efforts to
​get dressed that day.
a photo from
March or so?
​
​Only
essential businesses were open.  I felt both
scared and
guilty to leave my
apartment, but I went for a
bike ride anyway. I packed my 
analog camera and
zoom recorder and hoped to be
inspired by the change of
scenery: pictured towards the bottom left is a
kid riding a scooter. I
remember riding up and down the
​driveway of my
childhood home too —except this is a
​Cermak parking lot.
wake up. ugh. get up . . .
make coffee . . . make time to walk . . .
make, make, make, make, make