Standing in front of the American Vietnamese Center attempting an impossible picture with the light shining on half the house and the sun setting, I met a woman with a butterfly tattoo and her mother and her mother's Native American friend. The mother likes taking pictures of flowers and we've made a plan to go out together and take pictures of flowers and hair, which she loves too, especially jet black hair like the Vietnamese have. She didn't like the pictures I took because she thought she looked old despite her blue eyes, like her daughters, but she wanted the picture of the tattoo on her daughter's pregnant belly. Do I look fat? her daughter asked. No, pregnant, I said. Then she put her nose into her mother's hair and I remembered how Calvin's hair smells like sunshine. She said her daughter's smelled like honey.