I Remember Photographs

The strains of the Janis Ian music wanders through my mind as I think about this.

As you may have been following along, DK now wants pictures of Muni. Last night I didn’t take those pictures; my hands were full of things placed on my desk while I was out, filling a tote. At one point along Irving, though, the doors opened on the N and beauty hit me square in the face in the utmost simplicity. The bed of a white pickup truck with rust and wet and lacquered rain, loaded with old Christmas trees and covered with a blue tarp. The truck’s left rear tire was perfectly parked on a Starbucks paper coffee cup, as though the cup were stopping the truck from rolling downhill.

I didn’t take the picture.

But I didn’t miss the chance to develop my eye for it.