Biked all over Oakland and hooved my way through the Other City the last few days. Port sipped on quiet rainy afternoons. Thick beer sipped while shouting in smoke-shrouded ruby corners. Video shot in weedy abandoned lots bathed in the prettiest autumn light, light kin to light leaping off the tiny crystalline prisms of a chandelier. To and from the stationer's, dodging tumbleweeds in the Port. Crowned tooth, rosy cheeks, pelicans. Tiny white heart enamel earrings. The last wolf in That Other Country, shot in 1738. Two part-time jobs, snagged in time for November.





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