Category: photography

bookmark_borderReflections on Christmas 2024

Posted on by Marissa

My entire body was vibrating with tension, frustration, and anger. My chest was tight, a lump was forming in my throat, and tears were forming in my eyes. I was enveloped by an omnipresent sense of time pressure. I felt as if I was being batted around like a ping pong ball, and my head was spinning. There was nowhere to pull over, to regroup, to get myself situated. Inundated with an endless stream of conflicting, contradictory instructions and demands, my brain felt like it was overflowing. “I am so stressed,” I muttered under my breath again and again, heaving one huge sigh after another, but no amount of deep breaths could reduce the level of stress that I felt.

Unfortunately, this is what both my December 23 (Christmas Eve Eve) and December 25 (Christmas) consisted of.

On the 23rd, the chaos was caused by a workday with lots of employees on duty, but not a lot of customers, causing the employees to seemingly spend the entire shift in the break room, talking loudly, causing commotion, and clustering around the free cookies that the boss had brought in for us. (Normally I would be overjoyed at the presence of free cookies, or any type of free food for that matter, but on that occasion the cookies resulted in nothing but chaos, and I didn’t even get to properly look at them and choose which kind to take, because there were so many people constantly crowding around them.)

On Christmas Day, the chaos was caused by a visit to my grandmother at her assisted living place, during which I decided to use the public bathroom down the hall, both because I prefer public bathrooms to those in people’s homes, and because I wanted a chance to get up and walk around. Upon returning, my grandmother and dad looked up expectantly at me, as if I had just beamed down from Mars, and proceeded to interrogate me about where I had gone and why. This is something that if I hadn’t been feeling tired and frustrated to begin with, may have made me only mildly annoyed, but on this occasion it made me feel self-conscious, embarrassed, and humiliated. I was, alas, tired and frustrated because the visit had already lasted longer than I was expecting, and I was well behind schedule on the various tasks I wanted to get done that day.

That being said, I had good days on December 24 (Christmas Eve) and December 26. Overall, I was able to do a variety of festive activities that I enjoyed throughout the season.

On Christmas Eve, the store where I work closed early, so my shift was moved up earlier in the day. Most of my co-workers had the day off, creating a low-key vibe that stood in sharp contrast to the day before. There were a few free snacks in the break room, and I was actually able to enjoy them because there was no chaotic commotion this time. And after work, I had dinner at an Italian restaurant nearby. 

On Christmas Day, despite the bathroom snafu, I was happy with the gifts that I got. These included an American Girl doll named Summer McKinny, a tiny Napoleon and his horse Marengo, a tiny Queen Elizabeth II with her corgis, and a tiny Confederate soldier with his dog. (Can you see a theme developing here? Summer did not come with a pet, but she is an animal lover, and she has a dog-shaped purse, which you can kind of see in the picture.)

The day after Christmas, I had a relaxing day working on my hobbies. I also visited this house with a ridiculous amount of Christmas lights in Saugus, Massachusetts. 

(more photos of the house and neighboring ones can be found here)

A few other things that I did over the course of the holiday season included taking advantage of Cyber Monday sales to gift my dolls with a plethora of new outfits:

Visiting Christopher Columbus, getting a coffee at Caffe Dello Sport, and strolling through the North End:

(more photos like these can be found here)

Watching the Christmas tree lighting on Boston Common:

Sending out Christmas cards featuring my statues: 

Baking Italian anise cookies:

Putting lights up outside my house: 

Visiting the newly installed World War I soldier statue at a park in my town, and admiring his Christmas decorations: 

Buying some seasonal snacks and desserts from the store where I work: 

Buying myself some adorable gifts from Confederate Shop: 

The little gnome, ornaments, teddy bear, and Gadsden flag wind sock are all from Confederate Shop. This is a wonderful, family-owned business that I highly recommend to anyone who loves Confederate stuff like I do.

Visiting my town’s Christmas tree at the pond near my house:

Baking a chocolate peppermint loaf cake: 

By far the best part of my holiday season was decorating the statues – Robert E. Lee, Nathan Bedford Forrest, and Stonewall Jackson. I got a Christmas tree for them, put it up, and strung it with lights. I put festive bells around their necks (a bow for Nathan, because he’s the only one whose neck is skinny enough to tie the bow around) and Santa hats on their heads! My dad had the idea of piling pine boughs at their feet for an added festive touch. There are no words that can capture the warm and fuzzy feeling that filled my soul upon seeing them. 

Visiting the little generals every night upon getting home from work brought joy to my heart. Seeing them with their adorable Santa hats, smelling the piney scent of the tree and boughs, and watching the colorful lights twinkle, truly made me feel the spirit of Christmas. 

bookmark_borderA beautiful day in Boston with Christopher Columbus

Posted on by Marissa

Christopher Columbus is happy today. 

I could tell when I visited him.

Being a statue, he can’t exactly change his facial expression to reflect what he’s feeling. And I’m well aware that most people would say that he isn’t capable of feeling anything at all. But as someone who loves statues more than anything else in the world, and statues of Columbus in particular, I believe in the idea that a statue can feel happiness. Call me crazy, but I believe that on some level, Christopher Columbus knows about the election result and is pleased with it. 

As mentioned above, I decided to visit Christopher today. I had been in a dark and negative headspace regarding his situation, as detailed in this blog post. But with the hope and lightness that the election result brought, I was in the mood to make another trip into the North End to see my favorite statue.

And I’m glad that I did so. 

Before even boarding the train, I was beginning to regret my decision. It was one of those days that is relatively warm, but extremely windy. As an autistic person, this severely bothers my sensory sensitivities. Within the first few minutes of waiting on the train platform, I was frozen to the bone and in agony. I was wearing a light sweater due to the fact that the temperature (according to the weather app, at least) was 67 degrees, but I was soon wishing that I had worn a down parka and ski mask. After what felt like an eternity, the train arrived, but it apparently didn’t pull into the station correctly and had to back up a couple of feet, costing additional minutes. Finally, I was able to board the train and therefore to get a reprieve from the ice-cold wind. 

Once in Boston, my way was blocked numerous times: by people plodding along the narrow sidewalk, by a chaotic intersection at which a truck was trying to turn but none of the cars would allow it to, and by a gaggle of tourists hanging out near the entrance to the Peace Garden of St. Leonard’s Church. 

But once I stepped through the gate of Chris’s new home, the Peace Garden lived up to its name. Gentle music wafted through the air. The biting cold wind ceased. A wide brick path led through the garden, with a delicate-looking fence and elegant lanterns on either side, toward the entrance of the church. To my left were two statues: one of Jesus on the cross and the other of Mother Mary with children gathered around her. To my right were four statues: one of a saint with his arms raised in the air, one of a kindly-looking man surrounded by children, a gold-colored fellow with outstretched arms, and Chris. He stood tall with arms crossed over his chest, as always. Beautiful rosebushes had been planted around his pedestal. The trees cast shadows across his marble face, and their golden leaves drifted softly down to blanket the grass. The sun’s rays cast a warm glow over the peaceful scene. 

A few people trickled into the church for a mass that was starting soon, but for the most part, the garden was deserted, allowing me to spend a few minutes with Chris undisturbed. I didn’t actually talk to him, because that would’ve made me look completely insane, but I admired him, took some photos, and sent my thoughts to him telepathically. (I guess that sounds kind of insane too, now that I think about it.)

Hi Chris, I greeted him. It’s me, Marissa. Do you remember me? I came back, like I promised I would. No matter where you go, I will always find you. I will always come back. I will never forget about you. Are you happy in this place? You look nice here. It is peaceful and beautiful. Did you hear the news? Do you feel happy about it?

As crazy as it sounds, I knew that he did remember me, and that he was happy, about both his home and the election results.

Once I had assured myself of this, I took a closer look at the church building itself, a mosaic displaying the names of its benefactors, and a new sculpture called the Noble Journey, which shows footprints of various sizes representing immigrants coming to America. And then I turned and walked slowly back down the brick path and into the bustling, congested streets of the North End. 

Bye Chris, I thought as I looked back over my shoulder. I’ll be back. Until next time…

Here are some pictures that I took of Chris, his friends, some other things in the Peace Garden, and a couple of other miscellaneous pieces of public art in Boston:

You can view all of my pictures of Chris at St. Leonard’s here. This album also includes the pictures that I took when I visited him for the first time there in September, which I wasn’t in the right headspace to post about at the time.

bookmark_borderRevere Beach Sand Sculpting Festival 2024

Posted on by Marissa

Last week, I visited and took photos of the sand sculptures at Revere Beach. A sand sculpting festival and competition takes place there every year in July. Due to my job which requires working on weekends, I wasn’t able to attend the festival itself, which took place Friday through Sunday. But I do enjoy looking at the sand sculptures, so I decided to visit them on Wednesday morning.

I was concerned that the sculptures would have deteriorated by that point, three days after they were built. I was also concerned that the beach would be windy, as it often is. As a person on the autism spectrum, I have sensory sensitivities to wind, which have become more severe in recent years, and can cause spending time outside to become excruciating. The wind was quite painful during the walk from my house to the train station, which boded ill. Plus, people began getting on my nerves during the commute by doing various annoying things such as invading my personal space, blocking my way, and getting onto the train before I had a chance to step off. I was starting to regret making the journey.

But as I crossed the bridge from the train station to the beach, I was pleasantly surprised to find that there was almost zero wind. The day was cloudy, cool, muggy, and still. I was equally pleased to find that the sand sculptures were in pristine condition. They had not deteriorated at all, and were magnificent to behold, as they are every year. They were located conveniently between the Wonderland and Revere Beach MBTA stations, making for an easy walk. Despite it being three days after the festival, there were lots of people milling about and admiring the sculptures, but not so many that it was impossible to move about freely or get good photos (as is often the case during the festival). Overall, it was a successful and pleasant experience, and I am glad that I went.

Among my favorites were the cat and mice, and the chameleon. Hopefully you enjoy the photos below:

You can view more photos on my photography website here.

bookmark_borderEmbracing imperfection

Posted on by Marissa

As a person on the autism spectrum, I have a tendency to be a perfectionist. I tend to have a picture in my head of how the day is going to go, and tend to become very upset if things do not go according to how I pictured them. I struggle with being flexible, and tend to feel that if things do not go perfectly, then everything is a disaster and the day is ruined.

(Lately I had numerous instances of things getting messed up and not going according to plan, which I wrote about here.)

A couple days ago, however, I had some success with embracing imperfection. 

It was a warm and sunny morning, and I decided to take a walk around the pond near my house. The trees were still blooming with beautiful white and pink flowers. After my camera had inexplicably decided not to work, I had done some troubleshooting, and I thought that I had fixed the problem. So I brought it along to take photos. Imagine my shock and dismay when, again, the shutter button refused to work, in exactly the same way it had earlier! I angrily trudged home and sulked around. But then, a little while later, I decided to return to the pond and take pictures with my phone. 

Although I much prefer to use a “real” camera, it was better than nothing.

I enjoyed being outside in the beautiful weather and looking at the trees, flowers, ducks, geese, and trucks rumbling to and from the construction site at the top of the hill. 

Farther away from my house, there is a park with a World War I memorial, which is decorated with different flowers depending on the season. I knew from seeing the park in passing that there were currently bright yellow daffodils and beautiful tulips planted there, but I hadn’t had time to actually stop and get close-up to take photos. A sufficient amount of time had gone by that I figured the daffodils would be wilted and sad-looking. But after my walk around the pond, I had extra time, so I decided to make the walk to the park anyways. To my surprise, the flowers, even though they weren’t in absolutely pristine condition, still looked beautiful.

And even though I was stuck using my phone as opposed to my “real” camera, I still got some pretty good photos. 

The moral of the story: An imperfect day can still be a good one. “Plan B” is not as good as “Plan A,” but it is better than nothing, and it is certainly better than giving up on the day entirely. 

bookmark_borderPhotos from a snowy day

Posted on by Marissa

Here are a few photos that I took yesterday, during the first snowfall of this winter.


Stonewall Jackson braved the storm, and received a light coating of snow on his head, chest, and shoulder.

At the park near my house, people went sledding and made numerous snowmen. (It is always a mystery to me why people would choose to spend an extended amount of time outside in the cold, especially when the snow is still falling – I only stayed there for long enough to snap a few pictures of the scene before the wind, and the snow being blown into my face, became so uncomfortable that I had to head home.)


The Christmas tree was still on display, and adorned with a dusting of snow.

Ducks, geese, and swans bobbed peacefully in the half-frozen water, with the trees’ bare branches framing the scene.


Yet another family of snow people waved to me from beside the path.

The snow during the first half of the day, when these photos were taken, was of the wet, heavy, and soggy variety. The overcast sky lent a gray and gloomy feel to the day. But as the snow continued to fall, it became light and dry, flurrying through the sky. At work, people wearing fluorescent yellow vests frantically shoveled the parking lot and cleared the walkways with sidewalk plows. When I got out of work, flakes were still drifting down through the black sky, performing a delicate dance as I waited for my train at the train station. The parking lot, now empty of cars, was filled with large vehicles, plowing and sanding.

As I trudged up my driveway, the snow formed a glittering blanket beneath my feet, so beautiful that I felt bad to spoil it by stepping in it. Behind my house, Stonewall watched over his kingdom of snow, so pristine and white that it was somehow as light as midday, even though it was 10:00 at night. The flashlight, which I customarily bring when I visit him, was completely unnecessary as I walked through the peaceful and eerily bright scene beneath the gray sky.

I will leave you with one final picture: Stonewall this morning. The snow is now marred by footprints (mine!) and has started to melt, but hopefully this gives an idea of what it looked like last night.

bookmark_borderA Christmas gift for Christopher Columbus

Posted on by Marissa

It was December 23, and the North End of Boston was filled with Christmas cheer. Lights twinkled on the trees, and the cafes and restaurants were adorned with wreaths and garlands. 

People hustled and bustled through the narrow streets and lined up outside Modern Pastry and Neptune Oyster in search of goodies for their Christmas feasts. Car horns honked impatiently. Tourists chattered excitedly in various languages and stopped to snap pictures. 

The only person seemingly left out of the festivities was Christopher Columbus. A narrow alley off of bustling Salem Street, deserted except for a few parked cars and an abandoned mattress, led to his home in the parking lot of the Knights of Columbus headquarters. As always, he stood solemnly atop his modest pedestal, isolated behind a tall fence. 

Merry Christmas, Chris. How have you been? Everything is so cheerful out there, with the lights, and the decorations, and everyone buying food and presents. And you are here all by yourself. Nobody seems to care about you out there, but I do. You have no decorations, and no presents, and no family, and no one coming to visit you. But I’m here to visit you. I didn’t forget. 

I stood for a few moments with my friend Chris, separated from him by the fence.

And then I noticed that the gate behind him, on the other side of the parking lot, was open. 

And an idea came into my mind.

Perhaps Chris could receive a gift after all. 

I didn’t know for how much longer the gate would be open, so I had to hurry. I turned back onto Salem Street and, turning my head to the left and to the right, began scanning the storefronts for one that might sell suitable gifts for a marble statue. I remembered passing by a CVS earlier, shortly after getting off of the train. So, battling through the crowds, I retraced my steps. Once inside the cramped drug store, I found myself surrounded by an overwhelming assortment of candy, stockings, toys, and holiday decorations. What would Chrisopher Columbus like? I asked myself as shoppers flowed around me, checking out the merchandise, and the automatic doors noisily clanged open and closed. A statue cannot eat, so candy was out. The toys all seemed too juvenile and silly for a great admiral. I noticed a table filled with bouquets of flowers, which were beautiful but very expensive, and likely too big to rest securely atop Chris’s small pedestal. And then I noticed that next to the flowers were some small plants, with beautiful white flowers, that cost only $7. 

The perfect gift for Chris!

I paid for a plant and, praying that the gate hadn’t closed, carried it carefully through the busy streets. 

To my tremendous relief, the gate was open, allowing me to stroll into the parking lot and present the admiral with his gift. A sign sternly warned me that trespassing is forbidden and that violators will be prosecuted, but I ignored it, figuring that no one would mind, because after all, I was there to give the statue a gift, not to harm him. I gently placed the little plant between his marble feet. 

Merry Christmas, my friend. I brought you a gift after all. I hope you like it. 

I took a few photos of him with his gift, patted his foot, and bid him farewell. 

See you later, Chris. It’s been wonderful to see you, as always. Until next time…

bookmark_borderStonewall Jackson’s 1 year anniversary

Posted on by Marissa

Today, I am not going to focus on all of the horrible things that horrible people are doing and saying. That is because today marks one year that Stonewall Jackson has been living with me in Malden. In a world filled with beyond infuriating and beyond awful happenings, Stonewall’s existence is one thing that is 100% beautiful, magnificent, magical, and good.

I hope that you enjoy these photos of Stonewall over the past year as much as I enjoyed gathering them.

May 21, 2023
Me and Stonewall, May 29, 2023
Me and Stonewall, May 29, 2023
Me and Stonewall, May 29, 2023
February 23, 2023
February 24, 2023
May 9, 2023
September 24, 2022
October 24, 2022
December 12, 2022

bookmark_borderChristopher Columbus update

Posted on by Marissa

Another visit to Christopher Columbus…

I weaved my way through the streets of the North End, both too hot and too cold at the same time. In front of the Old North Church, a gaggle of tourists waited in line for tickets. A street sweeper came rumbling down the street. From somewhere nearby, the hammering and banging of some sort of construction project rang out. I was approaching Chris’s home from a different angle than I had before, so I had to look closely at the street signs and storefronts to figure out which way to go. Dodging cars, delivery trucks, a US Foods employee maneuvering a two-wheeler stacked with boxes, and several people pushing carts of books down the sidewalk, I knew that I was getting close. And it was about time, too. I had stopped at Revere Beach before going to Boston, and passed through the park, now haunted, where his pitiful empty pedestal still stands, surrounded by people walking to and fro and enjoying their day, oblivious to its significance. Plus, both the orange and blue lines were operating under speed restrictions, meaning that for the majority of my journey, the train crawled painfully along at a snail’s pace.

The hot sun was beating down, punctuated by biting cold wind. This, combined with noise of various sorts, people walking every which way, and the mental overload of having to concentrate simultaneously on avoiding bumping into said people and figuring out which direction to go, almost made me regret making the trip. I felt irritated and annoyed, my brain overloaded.

But then I saw Chris.

Watching over the parking lot from his new pedestal, there he was. 

I noticed a couple of changes: he had finally lost the plastic wrap that had been clinging to his torso, and the asphalt expanse around him was divided into parking spaces, complete with pristine new white lines and numbers.

Another change: unlike during my earlier visit, I was not able to be alone with Chris. Just as I got there, an elderly gentleman drove up to the gate, got out of his car to open it, and drove into the parking lot before closing and locking the gate again. Presumably he was one of the residents of the building, which houses both the headquarters of the Knights of Columbus Ausonia Council, as well as apartments for low-income seniors. 

Hello, Chris. I’ve braved a lot of things in order to come see you. The train was ridiculously slow, and people are walking in all different directions, and honking their horns, and blocking my way, and driving down the street just as I’m about to cross it, and hammering and banging, and squealing and laughing, and talking really loud on their cell phones, and just overall driving me crazy. It is hot and cold at the same time, and my feet are starting to hurt. But you make it all worthwhile. 

I felt self-conscious in front of the old man, figuring he would think me a weirdo for standing there staring at a statue. It was his home, after all, and not mine. I didn’t feel free to spend as much time with Chris as I wanted to. So I stood at the fence for a few moments, and then bid him farewell. I left feeling unsettled, my mind swirling with mixed emotions about the fact that the man I love, the marble figure who holds such profound significance, is essentially owned by a bunch of old people.

Bye, Chris. Sorry this is such a short visit. But I’ll be back.

8/1/2023

bookmark_borderRevere Beach sand sculpture photos (8/1/23)

Posted on by Marissa

Last weekend was the Revere Beach Sand Sculpting Festival. Due to my work schedule, I wasn’t able to go to the festival, but I decided to head to the beach on my day off to see if the sand sculptures were still there and if so, what condition they were in.

There had been severe rain on Saturday night, and unfortunately it really affected the sculptures. Some were so severely damaged that they were unrecognizable, others were largely intact, and most were somewhere in between these two extremes. Seeing them was both sad and cool at the same time. It was a poignant reminder of the impermanence of life.

Check out the photos below:

bookmark_borderChristopher Columbus in his new home

Posted on by Marissa

It had been a difficult week, with many things weighing on my mind that are hard to put into words. When I woke up in the morning, something made me decide to visit Christopher Columbus. Something told me that he would understand, even though he is not technically alive.

So I took the train to Boston. Upon getting out at Haymarket, I noticed that many things were different from the last time I was there. The Government Center garage was almost completely dismantled, with a huge yellow crane towering over the scene. A glass skyscraper emblazoned with the words “State Street” loomed nearby. There was also a new row of buildings, containing a Gordon Ramsay burger restaurant, in the area where fruit vendors set up their stands on Fridays and Saturdays.

All of these changes, combined with the constant stream of foot traffic flowing around me, caused me to start feeling overstimulated. It was hot and sunny, and I felt dizzy and tired.

I also began to get nervous about Chris himself. He had not officially been unveiled in his new location, and the finishing touches were still being put on the space, so I didn’t know what the setup would be. I didn’t know how publicly visible (if at all) he would be, or how the courtyard would be configured around him. I expected that I would have to do a bit of searching in order to find him, and I was concerned that I might attract curious stares or (God forbid) questions from passerby. I figured there was also a possibility he wouldn’t be publicly visible at all, and I would have made the trip into Boston for nothing. 

Despite this, I crossed over the Rose Kennedy Greenway and into the North End. The narrow streets were filled with people going about their business: tourists taking selfies, kids in matching t-shirts who appeared to be on some sort of field trip, businesspeople rushing to work, young people in trendy activewear returning home from their workouts, employees wheeling boxes of various food products into restaurants. While making my way through the bustling streets, I looked to my left in search of the correct side street to turn onto. To my surprise, there he was, his familiar white marble form unmistakable. 

The sight of him took my breath away. 

I was not expecting Chris to be so easy to find. 

In fact, the sighting of my beloved statue was so unexpected that instead of turning onto that side street, I continued with the flow of foot traffic, not wanting to abruptly change direction and cut people off. I decided to first check out the view of Chris from the opposite direction, and then to circle back. So I ended up on a shady, somewhat secluded street, where an old man sat on some porch steps, chatting on his cell phone. He looked up briefly when he saw me, but quickly turned his attention back to his conversation. Down a short alley and behind a black, metal fence was Chris. Only his back was visible from this view. He stood beside a brick building, presumably the new headquarters for the Knights of Columbus Ausonia Council, which also contains apartments for low-income seniors. I snapped a few shots, then headed back to see my friend from the front.

I returned to the main drag, and then turned onto the side street down which I had glimpsed Chris before. In stark contrast to the bustling streets surrounding it, the little lane was deserted, with the exception of several parked construction vehicles and a lone pedestrian who soon disappeared through the door of an apartment building.

In almost eerie silence, and beneath the baking sun, I was alone with Chris. 

His face had the same pensive look that I remembered, his arms still crossed sternly across his chest. He stood atop a simple granite pedestal, anchored to the ground with concrete. The area around him was bare and stark, the vacant asphalt expanse devoid of any flowers or landscaping. There was no noise other than a county song playing faintly in the distance. A piece of clear plastic wrap, still clinging to his torso, stirred briefly in a faint breeze. 

I was struck by the contrast between Chris’s quiet, seemingly deserted new home and the crowded, noisy streets surrounding it. I was also struck by the seeming indifference of those crowds of people: sightseeing, laughing, chatting, strolling, and working, none of them displaying any outward indication that they cared one iota whether Chris existed or not. No acknowledgement that standing tall in their midst was the marble embodiment of the pain that has tormented me for three years, changed my life completely, and on more than one occasion nearly ended it.

Thanks to a black metal fence, adorned with “no trespassing” signs, I could get no more than about 30 feet from Chris. Hopefully that fence, along with several security cameras nearby, will keep him safe. But the fence did not block him from view. I took pictures from various angles and simply stood and looked at him for a while. 

Do you remember me? I thought. I remember you. You haven’t changed at all. This city has changed, though. This city hates you. It hates me too. So we’re the same.

Are you happy here? I wondered. Are you in pain? Are you angry at what happened to you? Are you sad that you’re not in the park anymore? Do you miss it?

It was nearly noon, the sun almost directly overhead and the pavement baking beneath my feet. 

What do you think about this weather? I wondered Do you like the sun beating down like this? I thought about my Stonewall Jackson statue, and how beautifully he shines when the sun warms his bronze surface. I bet you do. Statues like the hotness. Yeah, you do.

It’s been nice to see you, I thought, as if Chris could somehow hear me (and as if it’s perfectly normal to try to telepathically send your thoughts to a statue). Stonewall Jackson sends his regards. I think you’d like him, if you could meet him.

All right, I’ll be back.

I glanced back at him one more time, sending a silent farewell, before making my way down the deserted side street and rejoining the crowds teeming down the main thoroughfare.

Don’t get me wrong: I am still angry at what happened to Chris. It is an injustice, and always will be. I was upset when I first saw photos of Chris, with his head once more attached to him, at his new location. Upset because the images confirmed his eviction from his rightful place, and because others had learned the news before I did (I saw the photos on social media two days after they were posted).

But spending a few moments with Chris lifted my spirits and was good for my soul. I was glad to see him after three years of not being able to do so.

7/18/2023