Scratch the paint and there is a tenderness of human spirit that astounds me everyday. Yuen is breaking my heart. The sun is shining and I can feel two tears sitting tight in the inner corners of my eyes. We promise each other that we will travel safe, she is teaching me that friendship is a combination of trust, respect, passion, and longing. My desire to save her, pull her into my arms and hang on, is selfish.
I am given a bulb of garlic, the weak pale shoots sit fragile in my hands. He passes it to me as if it is a jewel, a promise, a small measure of hope. He wants me to care for it, to plant it, to make it reproduce and continue some endless cycle of living. I am reluctant to accept such tremendous responsibility, I am reluctant to make those kinds of promises, perhaps if I believed in a god I would be more willing. He tells me he knew my grandfather, although he has not asked my name, he says, "he was a rich casino owner". What he does not know is that my grandfather like him believed in the papery magic of garlic cloves, the aroma rising from his fingertips filled me with fondness.

the ten consistencies:
1. stolen bicycles
2. shopping carts
3. used needles
4. blue latex gloves
5. hello
6. sirens
7. take out pizza plates
8. black hoodies
9. wheelchairs
10. big red tourist buses