& Then, I Became.

freebie This story takes place in New Orleans. For those of you who haven’t been, New Orleans is a stunning stage play set in a different time. It feels much like getting lost in Europe, only slightly more velvet to the touch. Almost makes me wish I was born a half a century earlier - but then this is happening now and I am happening with it.. The word soul comes to mind. The streets whisper stories, pulsate with music, and every footfall plays into the rhythm of the city’s thumping heartbeat. It was this that I was walking through on a chilly, but sunny Shabbat afternoon. I had not a penny in my pocket and my phone was locked safely in our hotel suite. There is no real way to describe the smells, sounds, and colors of a New Orleans street - so you’re just going to have to trust me until you get the chance to be there for yourself. It was something. I passed a group of three poets pecking away at their typewriters. You know those ones who write you those little sonnets...

A Change in Pace  This week has been one where time has not only warped but in many ways ceased to exist. When you feel as if your life is in imminent danger there is only now. When both school and work are cancelled, there are no longer markers looming or deadlines tallying the passing days. Because of this, this week I had the time to freely explore my surroundings and engage with those around me. Instead of his usual dragging and pushing, time was merely skipping forward alongside us as a friend. I think this must be the perfect setting to learn the basics of film photography. Typically, when I take photos digitally (either on my DSLR or my trusty iPhone) I immediately look to the display to ensure I like the photo. I often snap rapidly to guarantee a "money shot" and wait until an image I consider satisfactory appears on my screen. My focus is on the product immenently displayed.  When shooting on film, there is no such immediacy. You won't see the pho...

& Then, I Became. A Work Forever In Progress     Authored by Basya Wuensch This is an honest recounting of events. Do not mistake this to mean the following is true. I will attempt only to relate what it is I perceived at a given time. The details will become clear. Or as clear as I was capable of making all this muck. I will start at the end. It is my freshest memory. I will then fall back to somewhere in the middle and may never address the beginning. This is how I remember it. Do not let this bee-boppitting around confuse or alarm you. The order is irrelevant. The pages of this tale can be torn out and thrown in a windstorm. Whatever order you recollect them will be sufficient. This is not a story of a linear quality. This is hardly a story at all. It is a series of evolutionary flashes. A list of integral ingredients. This is how I became. 1 Somewhere in a city where no one individual can be easily picked from the crowd was a man employed to manufa...