There is nothing as magical in the world as the moment when a person you once pictured as a confusing blur, suddenly becomes clearly visible, as if viewed through a freshly polished piece of glass. Will this glass always remain so clean and the subject so understandable? Of course not. As time goes on, the glass will gather dust, and the pitter and patter of the summer rain will strike at it, the spherical drops distorting the clarity of the view.
She is still a mystery, someone you hardly know in real life.
But there is no turning back from that special moment when she made SENSE to you, and there would be no more “Huh? WTF?” every time she wrote a artsy poem with unfamiliar references. Now you are at least an Instagram Whisperer, knowing the meaning of each of her photos of her slightly off-centered chairs, always filtered in Brannan.
Happy Birthday, Jenn, writer of Breed ‘Em and Weep. You are the original Hipstamatic.