My former boss introduces me to his friend, an older British woman who used to be a model. I'm intrigued by her and create a video about her life to show her one day. She has a pet sloth in the video. She wears blue denim on most days. She eats Cheerios for breakfast. I watch her mingle with other people I don't know. She laughs at what they are saying. I rent my room to a couple. My copy of Clarice Lispector is inside and I'm worried they'll steal it.
As a stranger, I'm visiting a San Diego household containing a picture perfect family. They all have tan skin and button noses. This is the father's second marriage, but he's still close with his ex who makes an appearance in a family video they show me. They are sitting in front of a Volvo and the kids are moving in and out of the picture. The ex is in the background smiling. The grandmother shows me her handmade quilts and freshly picked radishes from the garden out back. The house feels suburban, but the stuff inside is more authentic. I want to find something wrong with the family, but have a difficult time doing so.
A group of friends and strangers and colleagues and I are getting ready for a trip. I'm in charge of packing everything up: the cameras, scripts, maps. We are going to Iraq to shoot photography. I'm feeling pressured and uncertain about all of this. One of the women in my group is from Iraq, but she hasn't been home in 10 years. She comes from a wealthy family and will be staying with them in a safe, gated community outside of all the chaos. I examine maps with her. The airport customs people search through our things, all of which are in a massive trunk. They fling papers and maps all over the place.
My mom is small and feeble, sickly almost. She vomits and I pick her up and hold her like a baby. There are friends and strangers around the house, which is on a series of hills and greenery. Festivities are happening and a guy I barely know is trying to talk to me. I put my mom in bed. The guy follows me into another room and tries to kiss me.
