Florence at her mother's apartment in Knickerbocker Village
These days, I am amused at the accolades on Mother's Day that often include the passing down of make-up tips and the special shopping trips for new clothes.
These were not the gifts Florence gave my sister or me. And although I inherited her love of lipstick, it's what is not found in a tube or a store that reminds me of my mother. It is, instead, a ferocious, unending, tenacious, gut wrenching, miserable exhaustion, banging-head-against-wall, exhilarating 'til-death-do-us-part relationship with the work of an artist.
Personally, there are days I would have been just fine with a new dress or some blue eyeshadow.
Looking Backwards - The Thursday Post From The 365 Bars Blog! - This Week,
January 11, 2010 - Bar Number One: Otto’s Shrunken Head
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*Okay, we’re doing a little adjustment here, I was doing posts from the
MBIP past on Thursdays to free up a little time for me to work on my
upcoming bo...
11 hours ago
1 comment:
What a beautiful photograph! I also leave here my admiration for what you have said.
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