I'm in the car with Lara. She's on the phone to her boyfriend, a circus strongman by the name of Pierre Pressure.
We're driving from San Francisco airport to Harbin Hotsprings, and catching up after five years, filling in the gaps and regailing each other with stories that we've almost forgotten of ourselves but remember of one another, stories of nudity and irreverence in wild and often inappropriate places in California, Nevada and Guatemala, the territories of our friendship.
Lara is great. She's 5"11 and covered in tatoos. She's Head of Special Needs at a brand new charter school in New Orleans. She's educated up to her eyeballs from Berkeley and Columbia, and once got arrested for being naked on the Berkeley campus. She's the perfect companion for Harbin.
There's no photography at harbin and only dialup internet. I'm offline for the next month, getting lost in the weird world of New Age America in a succession of wifi-free fields.
Wish me luck! Until mid July...
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