The Mare

Velvet

When I saw Ginger there I felt the same as when I first got in the car with her and Paul: that she was a strange nice lady with a mixed face who didn’t have anything to do with me. I liked her taking my picture, I liked it that I was going to have some pictures to take back home with me. But it was strange.

And then it wasn’t. I can’t explain it. Just all of a sudden, it made sense, her being there, me being with her. I still don’t know why. But I got it. It was like I was looking at puzzle pieces all over the floor that magically got snapped into place and I went, Oh, okay. I still couldn’t say what the picture was. But it made sense.