Dear Hung Liu,
First travel plans since sequestration, I’m wandering through the Oakland Airport with time to kill. So much has changed, I hardly recognize anything. It’s like being on another planet. Since I had time to kill, I wandered down the terminals, and when I saw your wall of dancing cranes, I wanted to weep. The hairs on my arms stood on end. Something familiar at last. Since you painted those endangered cranes, the population has plummeted. But they tenaciously cling to the tree of the species still with us. So much water under the bridge since I last saw you at your and Annie Leibovitz’s exhibit in San Jose. But here you are, again, through your art, and as I sit in the cathedral of cranes, I am grateful for your vision, never dreaming it would offer solace so many decades later. And by wandering off, by getting lost, I was found again. Sheh-sheh.
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