Mark's Pages

June 24, 2004:

Young woman, twenty, dark hair, bright white pants soaked-through with brilliant menstrual blood. Boarding pass in hand, Gate C10, Seattle-Tacoma airport.

Turnstile, Del Mar Fairgrounds, entrance line. Blonde in tight blue-jeans, blood-soaked.

Woman behind her taps her shoulder, kindly. "You're bleeding," she whispers.

Blonde turns, nods. "Yes, I know," she says, matter-of-factly.

English Beat concert, mid 1980s.

You feel awful for her.