I went out Friday night, even though a part of me said not to.

I wasn’t sure if I needed to be out there. But Jeremy was determined.

So out we went.

We hit up Art Murmur. Wound around the galleries. It didn’t feel right. I didn’t like the mash up between heightened awareness and willfully oblivious that spiked the air. “Is it me?” I asked and he said, “No.”

So we left to drive down Broadway. All the way down to Jack London Sq. They are using the old Barnes & Noble site as an art space. We go inside and there are all different kinds of projectors running. It’s a lot of room. But, again, I can’t get pulled in to the moment the artists are creating. The Oakland Underground Cinema has worked hard to make this evening happen. The crowd is sparse, but determined. “I’m sorry,” I think to nobody in particular, “There could have been a lot of chaos going on right now, and while your visual and audio pieces are offering an escape, I can’t get past that bit of reality.”

Back into the car, back onto Broadway, no traffic on a Friday night at 10pm, so quiet.

And then…

17th Street between Telegraph and Broadway…

There is a small cluster of people…

And here is the art that moves me…

That pulls me in…

Jeremy pulls the car over…

This is where I need to be.