These are photos I took of Alice’s apartment when we got there on Friday morning, the day she passed on. I barely touched anything: it is as she left it.
As I looked around, it seemed to me that her apartment reflected so much of who she was/is: plants; sculptures everywhere—including nested in the sofa and even in the kitchen sink!—just dusted?—; cats everywhere; Black Lives Matter buttons all over; Gay Pride flags in several rooms; family photos not just on the fridge by over the stove too; files labeled “Nature”, “Play”, “Racism”, “Soul Matters”.
And as we were leaving, out of curiosity I checked the plastic pocket on the back of her front door. There, instead of the copies of her key medical documents that were supposed to be there—oops!—were two latex gloves and… Well, you’ll find out at the end of this portrait of Alice’s apartment: Click here to visit.
Love & gratitude,
Mark