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Dec 5, 2025
The brush, she, my sister, my friend, dips in vibrant pink, like satin ribbons or the tender curve of a lip, and then deftly applies, with the flick of her wrist, a twist, the kind of poetry artists use to produce a delicate petal, cupped and open, waiting, maybe, for rain. I watch her work, […]
2Jul 11, 2014
“Would you like an elephant plant?” She asks, holding up a tiny plant in a square pot–terra cotta orange, but plastic—a baby that moments later I cannot find. I’m not sure it’s actually called an elephant plant, but it might be. She’s not the best for remembering the names of things, and she lifts this […]