A Charlie Chaplin moment

It poured rain; it cleared up; it sprinkled; it cleared up; it hailed. Spring in Portland. Bella feels better and has tested Covid-negative six times, including a PCR, so we think it must have been allergies. We had a wonderful afternoon/evening together, doing art, listening to Harry Styles (she was aghast that I didn't know who he was), going out for a Boba tea and some new crayons. She tells me she'd rather be behind the camera than in front of it; she feels comforted by the idea of alien life because, she says, "They're probably smarter and kinder than human beings. Maybe they're more like whales."

Extra is an uncropped version of the same photo--her Chaplin pose in the hospital's healing garden.

I've been four days in a migraine, so just returning (rather tentatively) to life. The unfolding story of the ineptitude of cops in Uvalde has been mind-boggling and heartbreaking. I saw Margie on Thursday, but we wept together for the families in Buffalo and Uvalde, and the camera felt intrusive. She did say something I want to keep: "Reality is both the beauty and the horror. Either one, by itself, is a lie. You have to hold it all, to see the truth."