No history of anything contains more than it leaves out.
My architect cousin left Cuba for Paris decades ago. I met him today for the very first time after I almost bought a jean jacket at this vintage shop.
Most everyone thinks I’m my mother’s only child, but five babies died before me, including Yima, a stillborn.
My dad started learning Portuguese at age 65. Today, he watches all his Brazilian TV shows without subtitles.
My grandmother always wanted to play the flute, but her father didn’t let her because it was too phallic looking.
Julia is often told she looks like Marion Cotillard.
Sometimes I’m scared to fly so I take the train.
A tableau about fashion and masculinity.
When my parents pass, I often wonder who’ll take care of the garden.
Ignoring anyone who ever told them not to look straight into the sun.
I walked around thinking about Ana Mendieta and how her husband and murderer is still alive.
If life moves in an orderly fashion, then my parents will die before me, even worse is that I love them, and for that I hate them.
I met Julia outside Villa Manarola, this 100 year-old building surrounded by mango trees. I brought her a Covid test to see whether we were in the clear for our first date.
I took the trolley to Roosevelt Island with my father. We haven’t been back since.
A secret garden in NY.
The young man who lived here broke into my childhood home two houses over. He was a drug addict and needed money.
In Sunset Park, a subway shooting was taking place just around the corner on the crowded N train. We didn’t take the subway again for weeks.
Once a clear, blue-hardened sky, like glass waiting to shatter.
Unbeknownst to me, my E-ZPass wasn’t working for months, so I received over $1,000 in fines when I returned to Miami.
I asked Julia to look at the camera like she loved me. Sometimes she gets it right.
My best friend, Dr. Harry, has an ongoing streak of solving Monday NYT crosswords. I think he’s much smarter than that.
I’m writing this from the future, and I can say with certainty that all the work pays off.
Bryan never remembers his dreams, but he rarely sleeps.
The fuzzy thing below is called a dead cat. The chickens keep playing with it.
Lilí can bring any radio back to life. Once she does, she’ll search for any station playing Juan Luis Guerra.
Sometimes she deserves the entire bed.
I was most excited to have her experience the rumbling of the subway train during the movie.
Gen Alpha.
Passersby would stop to admire this expert’s craft. He threaded the needle with such precision and ease.
The first film I ever shot was a 4 minute MOS on 16mm for the powerhouse writer/director, Laurel Parmet. The story was set at a Brooklyn park, about a young girl’s first sexual experience.
On a starry night, I hiked far out into the countryside to record ambience, but fell asleep to sounds of nature.