#aline posts

I wished often in those final heady weeks of 2024 that I could stay in that moment forever, Icarus at the end of my triumph. I don't know what will come for me in the coming year; I am scared; the future has been made into a terrifying place for people like me, people like us. But I feel ready to face it, the fall or the next soaring ascent, whatever comes. I'm ready.

for Bea 21/01/1980–10/03/2025

I'm coming to the end of my first semester at art school and I'm killing it. I've made dear new friends and found community that loves me and I think I'm doing the best work of my life. Through art I'm finding ways to understand my transition and express my vulnerability and joy. I won a scholarship - I have signal finally that my work is good and has value and meaning. This is what my next chapter needed to be. I'm so excited.

Today, I was finally able to cry.

hand-feed me skagen toasts like I'm a fragile baby bird

Heading into town I came upon a man sprawled in front of the carport of an apartment building I walk by every day, half on the grass, half on the concrete, arm thrown out in front of him, reaching for nothing. A gaggle of people were stood around watching him. I thought he might be passed out, a common sight downtown. A woman walked by pushing a stroller. A cop pulled up, and trotted across the road, and knelt down in his body armor, and shouted "can you hear me" at him, and one onlooker said they'd seen him fall, and another onlooker said they'd heard the thump. They hadn't seen which balcony he fell from. The other residents were out on their own balconies watching the scene below. I searched their faces for anything more than blank curiosity. I tried to fix him in my mind: his posture, his clothes. One of his feet was bare, the other had a blue sandal on it. He wore track pants. His shirt had pulled up to show the crease of his lower back. His hair was dark and greasy and he had a bald patch. The paramedics arrived. They rolled him over and began CPR and placed defibrillator pads on his chest and I left, feeling my presence was a violation of him. Lazuli by Beach House was playing in my earbuds as I walked away. "Like no other, you can't be replaced." When I got to the café I sketched him as best I could remember. The details swam in my mind. I had to guess the position of his legs. I couldn't remember which foot was bare. I remembered the vivid blue of the sandal, the shape of it. Lapis Lazuli. I never saw his face. On the way home, the sidewalk was cordoned off with crime scene tape.