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jeannie is from new york and i immediately had to think of keith caputo when she talked, because of her soft n.y. accent. she told me that today is her 51st birthday and that she feels old and that she wanted a maragarita. i gave her a cigarette and my guinness instead.

she said that she is suffering from either tbc or bronchitis and the doctors are not able to figure it out. her mother died at 59 and she was afraid of dying, too - every evening she goes to sleep. not because of not waking up, she says, but of not knowing what is going to happen then and of going to hell.

i told her that i believe that purgatory is actually here on earth and that we all go to heaven (an idea i admit i have stolen from ludwig hirsch recently as a placeholder until further notice).
she smiled and asked me if i really believe that, and i told her for all i have figured out so far, yes. we had a conversation of how crazy things are in a "going over to susan's house" kind of way about a 15 year old kid in a suburb that was killed

i asked her if i could take her photo and she willingly agreed - so there you have it: meet jeannie

for a warrior of the wasteland

this is the earliest photo of my sister eva, which made me a firm believer that she was actually adopted by my parents.
as far as i remember it also took her a long time to stop responding to her hungarian (or even russian?) name "zewa"
happy january 24, lil' sis, you are the bestest little adopted sister i have ever had
(i think we returned the other ones)