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Starry Night - Nils Asplund , 1946.
Swedish, 1874-1958
oil paint on masonite , 61 x 71 cm.
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Happiness, for me, lies in the quiet observation of every day things. The little white flowers that suddenly sprouted, as if overnight, as if to say, all things come and all things go. The sound of rain pattering on the roof. My dog’s velvety ears. That first sip of coffee in the morning, bittersweet. My love’s hand in mine, knowing that’s home.
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‘Midsommar’, Ari Aster (2019)
Well we think of life like the seasons. So you’re a child until you’re 18 and that’s spring. And then at some point we all do our Pilgrimage, which is between 18 and 36, and that’s summer. And then from, eh - 36 to 54, we’re working age, which is fall. And then finally from 54 to 72 you become a mentor.
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black lives matter and pride are intrinsically linked. the black trans community have done so much for us, we owe it to them to not forget their movement this month. without black lives, there would be no pride. black lives matter, today and always
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‘The Florida Project’, Sean Baker (2017) I can always tell when adults are about to cry.
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I’m noticing the magnolia trees in bloom, fluttering a hopeful pink. I’m noticing the hunched figures scurrying along sidewalks, clutching reusable totes. I’m noticing my fellow dog walkers, how we’re skipping the neighborly rite of allowing our dogs’ noses to touch. I’m noticing the masked and the maskless, how we weave around each other. I’m noticing the “nonessential businesses” that remain boldly lit, servicing the well-to-do in my gentrifying slice of Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn. I’m noticing how I hold on to little things until they burn inside me and then, with precision, I cut them out clean.
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