Mark Phillips' Pages: Workbook: July 2018

July 31, 2018: Yellow bowling shirt with patches.
July 30, 2018: At the Zoo...
July 29, 2018: The beach house at Black's.
July 28, 2018: Mid '60s.
July 27, 2018: I had that mile of beach to myself for nine years.
July 26, 2018: Pudgy in Pacifica.
July 25, 2018: Chickens, doves: she has so many ambitions for the house.
July 24, 2018: Afternoon light, East County.
July 23, 2018: We're founding a new company.
July 22, 2018: I'm too polite to take pics of women with their breasts bared.
July 21, 2018: I'm on a couch at my friend's house in Washington State.
July 20, 2018: There she is in her thrift store bowling shirt...
July 19, 2018: There's another from that period I have no pics of at all...
July 18, 2018: She called me "little cute boy".
July 17, 2018: Carnival.
July 16, 2018: While we each gained weight...
July 15, 2018: Graduation gowns and mortarboards.
July 14, 2018: Why did I forgive him?
July 13, 2018: That's not hyperbole.
July 12, 2018: You can see the change of life epochs plainly in the change of light.
July 11, 2018: Boy-in-light.
July 10, 2018: Workspaces.
July 9, 2018: Old friends, long gone.
July 8, 2018: I would be that guy again.
July 7, 2018: Black hair.
July 6, 2018: Calico in tall grass.
July 5, 2018: In our first conversation she spilled some of the secrets she later thought she could conceal.
July 4, 2018: Worst of my buttons.
July 3, 2018: Misunderstanding.
July 2, 2018: Yah, I admit it. I snooped a little.
July 1, 2018: There's an inevitable dialectic to secrecy.