WILD HORSES.

Lately, Indy has been waking up early. She creeps down the stairs in the darkness with wild hair, and asks for tea with milk. Lately she has been listing to the Michael Buble Christmas album, even though it’s almost April, and she has been asking me to buy her a school uniform, even though she doesn’t go to a school that requires a uniform (she says that she just “likes the look” of a white button down shirt). Lately she has been taking pictures on my old camera and she tells me to “smile softly” when the she aims the lens at me. She sprinkles salt on her grapefruit halves and she whistles when she walks and she stops to pet every dog she meets. Lately she carries around a stuffed white horse, which she got for free at Wells Fargo bank one day when she was out running errands with her Ama. Sometimes she stuffs it into her purse and calls it a chihuahua, or sometimes she just drags it behind her on a leash. She has named it Rosa Parks and has declared that it is from Mexico and claims with a deep sadness that it has no super power to speak of. On the day that I took these pictures of Indy and Rosa, I heard Indy talking to herself in my room. She was playing with the hornless unicorn on my bed, lost in a world of imagination, and I realized that my saddest day will be the day when she no longer has conversations with her animals.

*outtakes from week 10 of you are my wild.

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