Sonya and I walked into Cameraworks,
past the tightly closed once La Mamelle/once Art Com doors.
I remembered but didn't mention
sometimes coming all the way to San Francisco from Berkeley
when I was very depressed
pushing the door bell that was still there.

As we looked at the work on the walls, (family histories
of several photographers) I remembered the time
that Carl pointed out the dog shit on the sidewalk
just as I was about to step in it.



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