I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
It's beautiful out this Saturday and only 1:38pm. After this draft, I will jump out of my PJs get into my overalls and go to the High Line.…
hat - maybe marshals vest - thrifted flannel - sears caftan - Mother's hand-me-down crochet bag - mawusi brooch - mawusi bead bracelet - boy beads yarn &…
Before Ghana Must Go, Taiye Selasi's essay, "Bye-Bye Babar" made me a fan of her writing and wit. If you have read this blog long enough you know I…
