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.
Welcome to the Neighborhood: Unregular Bakery, 124 Fourth Avenue
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Today we welcome a new small business to our neighborhoods — help us
welcome the next. Tell us which new independent store in Greenwich Village,
the East...
17 hours ago
1 comment:
What a beautiful photograph! I also leave here my admiration for what you have said.
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