umbrellas and fire
Thirteen years ago, on a Sunday morning in October, Trina and I piled into her car and took a drive down I-5 from San Francisco to the Grapevine to walk amongst Christo’s umbrellas. They were unabashedly beautiful – bright yellow splahses of color in the brown California hills. While it’s great to see all the pics of the Central Park gates, there’s nothing like seeing a Christo piece in person.
But the umbrellas were no match for what we saw on the way home. After five hours down and five hours back, we were driving along 580 towards the Bay Bridge when we both saw it at the same time – a massive, red glow from the hills to the east. “My God,” she said. “Oakland’s on fire.”