Zara Woman.

Je t'aime Samedi. Yesterday I lay on a rooftop and soaked up the moon. Someone had taken the initiative to paint half of a basketball court on the crushed gravel roof. It was brilliant. I shot some hoops, practiced my lay ups. Was it the Harvest moon? It really had power, whatever it was. Strong reflections caught my eye as we climbed. No camera, but I shot the night as if there was. Four of us walked up and around the concrete skeleton of a huge building, just concrete floors and piers, walls gone, blown out. It was a very strange climb.

The building itself reminded me of climbing around the Royal Bank many summers ago in Winnipeg. That night I saw a man roll down down down a staircase in a wheelchair. Intense. He survived and now hangs around Black Sheep. Wild night, lots of screaming and dancing to music from a stereo, climbing and running, watching so many released balloons float up from below.

Tanya's Grandmother; ink on cardstock. 2010