The painting had been moved from the middle of the room and was now hanging on a wall watching over the privileged guests as they danced. The men watched me as I entered the…
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I’m reading about JoAnna’s summer in New York City. I get to plunging sundresses, tank tops and high waisted shorts and am struck by the description of perspiration that “rolls down the low curve…
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These are the days. Where the sun rains down torrents of blistering light and steam escapes from grates in sultry and fluid wisps. The air plays tricks on your eyes as buildings sway and…
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I am an artist. The glorious part of this existence is — I get to have fun. I get to take risks. I get to create. I get to choose where and when I…
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I should have been writing this on a boat to Alaska. My husband’s parents had just celebrated their golden wedding anniversary this past May, and as an informal extension of their big, Chinese banquet…