Chalk outside of bus stop on Broadway. This reminded me a lot of the chalk graffiti (if you can call it that) that I used to do on night walks with my friend Daniel last summer. He wrote things like "Le Sang du Poet" and "You don't deserve to live in a house like this" and I traced outlines of shadows.
Photos from Baxter's last night in Boulder (I took my sweet time in putting them up, but here they are.)
A moment for Baxter. He is one of my all-time, all-around favorite people in life, ever. Brave and crazy, maybe, but above all, just one hell of a human being and completely one of a kind. Looking at his shoes and knowing I won't see him for two months makes me want to cry a little bit, so I can and also cannot imagine how Jessi feels. Those are her feet. That is my very first lawful strawberry margarita. We were at Efrain's when this was taken.
The tattoo on Baxter's ankle is my handwriting and it says, "This was the rock I kicked every day on my way home from school," which is something his dad used to say to him when he was little. When Bax got it, he told me, "Even if we stop being friends and never see each other again for the rest of our lives, I'll always remember you because your handwriting is on my leg."
