Being kind is not the same as being small

Happy Juneteenth! I seem to be celebrating with a visit to the dentist. Have a melting-eyed Autolycus.



The state of my sleep remains surreally bad, but yesterday spatch and I ran an errand in Cambridge and ate the sandwiches we retrieved from Mamaleh's beside the Mystic River, watching red-winged blackbirds and a little blue heron and the flashing ripples of fish in the sunset-struck water. It was nice.

I write it down, it happens next

Most of the holidays with which I grew up meaningfully have to do with memory, so what I actually did for Juneteenth was leave a stone at the Royall House and Slave Quarters, this ghost-ground of New England I didn't know existed until just a few years ago, complicating and true.