Photo-op

Something about taking my camera downtown today made me see shots everywhere:

A person in silhouette, leaning towards the huge window in Harbour Centre, with the fog floating below the mountains behind.

Stacks of chairs in empty rooms.

Sunset reflected off of Gastown's towers.

Sunset turning the naked marble ladies on the Sun Tower golden.

A woman leaning against a wall in twilight.

An old man feeding pigeons out his window in an alley.

And yet for some reason or other, I took none. I have an irrational fear of everything. I have a very rational fear that I will never outgrow that.

My dad informs me that his mother fell out of her wheelchair on Saturday. When she gets left in her wheelchair for too long, she gets impatient and sore and tries to climb back into bed, which, for a ninety-year-old, three-hundred-pound woman who is unable to walk and has difficulty pulling herself up in bed, isn't the smartest thing to do. Unfortunately for her, her wing of the hospital was understaffed at the time. She's in a lot of pain and has been in and out of consciousness ever since. The shock of the fall has caused her to come down with an infection, which at her age, might be more serious than it sounds. You never know.

With that came the news that my grandmother's roommate, Margaret, suffered a massive stroke on the same day and her family is there on deathwatch. I'd be sad to lose her. She's such a delightful woman and she gets along with my grandmother so well.

I don't really need any comforting words. I'm just writing stuff down.