Today I’m thinking of my friend Yoshiko. She writes really excellent, elegant stories about young girls’ first friendships, lonely office workers and black kittens. She lives in Japan. I’m fairly certain that she’s alright, and almost equally certain that people she knows and cares for are not.
I’m also thinking of a kid I knew way back in the day. A kid I was never that fond of. Yesterday I heard that last month he was jumped by a group of idiots and beaten beyond recognition in Brooklyn. Because he’s gay.