From Dec 16th 2010.

Today:

I left for the oakland airport early this morning. On the horizon you could see the ember-glow of sunrise coming.

From the BART train window I saw a homeless man standing in a riverbed beneath a bridge. He was tall but stooped. His face was turned to the sun and he had his shopping cart before him as if he meant to journey into the west. Behind him, the shadows of the homeless man and the shopping cart were figures cut from light in stark sloping lines against a fin of the bridge, and they seemed to be waiting patiently for the homeless man to move.

I slept on the plane. I can't remember what I dreamt, but I know I dreamt something because I woke up thinking the name of a girl I've never heard of. Her last name was "Rahmani".

Only perspective can know perspective, so it usually slips away unnoticed. But when it comes back, it comes back at you in jolts.

My mother told me that one of our family friends is dying. She’s only in her fifties. I grew up playing with her children. There were three of them: an older brother, a younger brother, and a sister in the middle. I learned she was gravely ill some weeks ago; I told myself then that I would pray for her every day, but after awhile I forgot. From now on I hope I will remember better.