FATHER & DAUGHTER

And while we’re on commercials . . . . BOOYA!

WE BELONG TO SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL

Was watching Serena and Alison Riske @ Wimbeldon when this beautiful commercial by Sephora popped up. WOW. Bravo, Sephora!

ARTICULATED

Mickalene Thomas + Mickalene at her Home and Studio

On Pandering

The Celibacy Amendment | A Solution to the Abortion War

In Residence | Sophie Hicks

Alanis Morrisette

Jack Pierson | Truth

SUNDAYS IN NEW YORK

❤️ LOVE IS LOVE IS LOVE IS LOVE ❤️

💕

♥  ♥  ♥  ♥  ♥  ♥

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the love of my life! You are the most spectacular human I have ever known . . . thoughtful, kind, generous, funny, honest, brave, and true. I am the luckiest girl in the world. ♥  ♥  ♥  ♥  ♥  ♥

photograph | Roger Thompson

SONNET 109

O never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seemed my flame to qualify.
As easy might I from myself depart,
As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie.
That is my home of love; if I have ranged
Like him that travels I return again,
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,
So that myself bring water for my stain.
Never believe, though in my nature reigned
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could so preposterously be stained
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good—
For nothing this wide universe I call,
Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.

William Shakespeare

OXFORDSHIRE

While Europe was enjoying/enduring a continental heatwave, we were the beneficiaries of spectacular sunshine in the gorgeous English countryside at the Soho Farmhouse. We visited with friends from Ojai who now live in London and drove to Blenheim Palace for a spot of tourism. Life is G-O-O-D.

JANELLE MONÁE

COLSON WHITEHEAD

. . . makes the cover of TIME Magazine.

Read all about him and his new novel, The Nickel Boys.

MY FIRST FACE

For fifty-five years, Borges slowly went blind,
losing first grey and green, the small fonts, the leaf’s
network of veins, then the difference between cerulean
and sapphire, between Chianti and claret. In the end,
it was every edition of Shakespeare, love looks not with eyes,
winged Cupid’s painted blind. Five years later, everything
black, Borges said, I’d always imagined that paradise
would resemble a library. No one asked, What, abandoned
to your labyrinth of darkness, do you imagine now?

A man I married told me one morning,
I don’t think I love you. We’d been married twelve years
though it took him another two years
to walk out the door. To be honest, I never loved him,
not even as I said yes. Yet I know, I’d still be with him
if he hadn’t left.

Borges knew from a young age he would, like his father
and his father’s father before him, become sightless. It’s why
he read every book, he said, before he was fifty.
Why he refused to learn Braille and how
he could tell just by listening how many books
a bookstore held. It’s how, even blind, he could draw
his own face––a scrawl without a mouth or eyes, a ball
of black string tossed on a white sheet of paper. The truth
is not always what’s written down––
I loved that man and, if only a little, I love him still.

Sarah Wetzel | from The Davids Inside David, 2019

NIGHT SKY WITH EXIT WOUNDS | OCEAN VUONG

Like any good son, I pull my father out
of the water, drag him by his hair

through white sand, his knuckles carving a trail
the waves rush in to erase. Because the city

beyond the shore is no longer
where we left it. Because the bombed

cathedral is now a cathedral
of trees. I kneel beside him to see how far

I might sink. Do you know who I am,
Ba? 
But the answer never comes. The answer

is the bullet hole in his back, brimming
with seawater. He is so still I think

he could be anyone’s father, found
the way a green bottle might appear

at a boy’s feet containing a year
he has never touched. I touch

his ears. No use. I turn him
over. To face it. The cathedral

in his sea-black eyes. The face
not mine—but one I will wear

to kiss all my lovers goodnight:
the way I seal my father’s lips

with my own & begin
the faithful work of drowning.

Ocean Vuong | Telemachus

Juana Olga Barrios | Flores Oscuras, 2019