There’s a moment—barely—when you see both ocean and bay from the 280 as it mills north near Millbrae, the waters flash what they know of daylight, and you register being a sort of gliding porch before dunking back under cypress
The day she decided to leave her lover, Romina was sitting in a plastic folding chair brought from home and waiting for her mother to be released from emergency services.
Because she paints barefoot, she’s barefoot in his painting of her painting. Well, not painting, but modeling for him as the painter she is and gazing toward her ostensible model,
