Carmen and I are perched on a rock at Ocean Beach on a windy, overcast Saturday in San Francisco. It is November of 1899 and a mass of black unbreathable frocks are taking in the Pacific Ocean, rolling up their trousers and hiking their full skirts. With no cure for the bubonic plague that recently arrived from Honolulu or wrinkled polyester beachwear you can order from Temu, the crowd is fragile, one flea bite away from the last few pages of a Victorian melodrama. Antibiotics weren’t a thing yet.
Every installment of the Carmen Project inspires me. There are many undiscovered ways to tell a family story. The meaning of someone’s life need not be bound by time and space.
Every installment of the Carmen Project inspires me. There are many undiscovered ways to tell a family story. The meaning of someone’s life need not be bound by time and space.
Thank you!!!🙏🏻