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  • I am a woman of many idols.
    Most of them are women.
    The chosen ones always have some quality that eludes me.
    They have a power, whether they acknowledge it or not.
    They have some kind of beauty that transcends the physical.
    They seem at home in themselves.
    And they are people who I will likely never get to know well. The proximity in life is important. Getting too close ruins the fantasy of who I imagine these people are. I need the fantasy.

    Luz is in a band called Y La Bamba. You might have heard of them. They originate from Portland and play shows here often, but they also tour the country. I've only seen them play once or twice. Luz is tall and beautiful and her voice is earthy yet siren-like at the same time. I've only met her a handful of times through a friend and we've interacted very little. I've been to two music shows at her house. The first one I went to, she saged the place in the middle of the show, gently fanning the smoke with her hands, as if the scent of it would heal us all and soothe our tired selves. The second show I noticed a shrine created to one of the bands playing. It was lovely and random and all of that cardboard seemed oddly sacred. Perhaps it was the bird's wing hung in front. I thought that there was something special about someone who just couldn't stop creating. Her whole house was littered with little drawings and random creations of all kinds.

    Luz was living in the garage which was separate from the house. Her room was small and tidy but lived in...with lots of books, and bags of herbs on the surrounding tables and books on naturopathy. She had candles and bibles and tarot cards and feathers hanging from the ceiling. I thought that it was a marvelous decor idea. As we were leaving her house my friend stopped to say good-bye to her. She was sitting in her garage-room, cross-legged on chair, surrounded by friends, looking serene. And I felt so inspired to be around someone so warm and so real. Someone who wrote songs that sounded like morning and mourning both.

    I wonder if she knows herself as well as I think she does.
    I wonder if she has any idols and who they are.
    I wonder if she feels like an outsider who just got lucky.

    And I wonder if we'll meet again. P
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