fire pic

Today we had a giant thunderstorm early in the morning. It was booming. Booming like crazy. I thought a war has started — the leftover feeling from when I was a child growing up in the Soviet Union during the Cold War. My dog, scared of thunder crawled closer to me in bed. It was an amazing feeling as it made me realize that I am in fact a protector in this beautiful relationship. It felt great to be able to offer relief from his fear. It’s amazing how we often don’t realize that people and dogs and whatever other creatures depend on us for relief and shelter and protection. I don’t have kids so for me it is this furry beastie that I am supposed to love and shield from any danger however it might be perceived by him.

It’s raining now and it is beautiful. I love my house so for me to stay inside is a pleasure. I used to live in an apartment and for 5 years I suffered because it never felt like home. It was always in my mind a temporary solution. However, to leave was scary. What if I won’t be able to pay the rent as it is quite high for my house. It was not a love from the first sight. But I already gave notice for the apartment so I had no choice. But it turned out alright. The garage is what sold me and the enormous bedroom. My apartment one was tiny and I could never sleep well there as I felt claustrophobic. Now I sleep like a baby. Amazing what extra space does to our well being.

Today my friend who lives in Portland proper told me that they got an alert about curfew. Can’t go outside after 8 pm or will be charged $500 for violating it. It was all due to the fear of protests — black lives matter, George Floyd: That’s in San Francisco though. Really?! In Portland where we love everybody?! Or supposedly. Coincidentally, Portland is a white yappy city. There is scarcely a black person there. (Very fucked up if you ask me). There are areas of Portland where black people were pushed to leave because of gentrification, like Alberta street which used to be an all-black neighborhood and now features shitty art galleries (I am an artist and the art they exhibit is just bad and does not mean anything; bunnies in funny outfits) and fancy coffee shops and bars. But no one talks about it in Portland because in Portland we love and treat everyone equally and we are proud of it. Fuck.

I really don’t know how I got here from the beginning of the post about my doggo. I guess it is a thread of supposedly being able to protect the vulnerable. Yes Portland, think about that.

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