Already Fermented, Still on the Vine ~ Chris Kalman, Climber, Nonprofit Founder & Author, (in no particular order)

In the morning the sky was the color of burgundy. A very beautiful mujer was making her way to the shore among the cattle and the caballos and I followed her down. When I was 100 paces away, a Caballero rode up and spoke to her some silent words. She looked faintly in my direction, then scurried away like a beetle cast from darkness into the sunlight.

I continued down to the wharf as if it were what I had come for. The sky was the color of blood, and the clouds were the color of burgundy. The waves crashed on the shore, and something like a large freighter began to depart, causing me feelings of vertigo as I tried to determine whether it or I was moving.

In the aftermath, there was a mother and a father with their child, speaking alternately in Spanish, English, and Hindi. “And how do you say my name is Raj, muchacho?” “Mera naam Raj hai!” the boy belted under jet black hair. “Muy bien, mi amor.” They explained to me that it made perfect sense, the multilingualism, given the complexity of the pantheon. I hurried away back up to the house, feeling vastly underprepared for discussions of hinduism with a sky the color of rosé and a head full of paisano.

On my way back up to the ranch house, I passed the Caballero riding along towards some indistinct yet inarguably important task. Upon passing, he slowed and tipped his cap, and said “Señor” to me through averted eyes. This restored me some feeling of masculinity, and I strutted rather more like a gallo than a gallina on my way back up to the house.

When I got there, the casita reeked of stale wine, and vomit, and dust particles shone effervescently in the gathering shafts of light. There was a half-eaten can of sardines with a fork stuck in it like a flag of surrender, and that was enough for me. I stumbled back to the cot, and lay down. When I went back to sleep, the sky was the color of cava, and the morning dew sparkled like diamonds where it clung to swollen grapes, so ripe and purple you could taste them. They were already fermented, still on the vine.

CHRIS KALMAN, Climbing and Media Solutions LLC

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Intimate Connection, Jada Griffin, acrylic on canvas, 36 x 36 x 2.5” museum profile painted black / 91 x 91 x 6 cm.