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First Supermoon of 2024 l Rami Ammoun

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Moonlight by Ethel Larcombe (British children's book illustrator and designer, 1876 - 1940)

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Stevie waiting by the side of the stage - 1979.

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Porcelain vase (circa 1900) by Amphora Porzellanfabrik (Bohemian, 1892–1945).

Porcelain, gilded and painted.

Image and text information courtesy Carnegie Museum of Art.

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☆Winter witch ☆

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a woman praying to the sun, the moon, and the stars

in a chapter on witchcraft in the didactic poem 'die pluemen der tugent' ('the flowers of virtue') by hans vintler, bavaria, c. 1469

source: Gotha, Forschungsbibl. der Universität Erfurt, Cod. Chart. A 594, fol. 168r

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Sturgeon Full Moon l Erik Contreras

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Georg Trakl, Surrender to Night: Collected Poems of Georg Trakl: Sebastian in Dream; from 'The Wayfarer' (version 2), tr. Will Stone

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As one of the elders who has lived through multi-generational childhood trauma and survived, a new painful loss has recently occurred to me and I want to share it so anyone who has the capacity to hear it and make their own healing around this specific wound can: It’s the loss of hearing and telling passed down stories through two or three generations that give many people a sense of family, a sense of self, and a sense of belonging along a continuum of ancestry. Those of us with fractured, segmented and abusive family histories never heard such stories and we will never tell them. How can we? Who can share their grandfathers heroic war stories when they live alongside his sexual and psychical abuse of us or our parents? Who wants to hear about the annual family picnic and it’s amazing family recipes when it came with a side of your mother or father drinking too much and you paying for it later with their violence? Why tell any family vacation story when every other day of the year was surrounded by neglect? I only feel this loss when I hear other families tell these stories around the dinner table and I see their collective laughter around some tale that has been told a thousand times but always strikes anew the chord of passed down love. I wonder what my children will think when or if, they realize I never told any such such stories of my own and this side of their family has no good story to tell that does not end or begin in sadness, anger or sorrow. Will they find the beauty or the power in them being the first ones to tell our stories of family happiness? Will they know how hard I worked and healed so that they could tell their own children or friends about that one funny time their parents said and did that funny thing on vacation that one year? Maybe they won’t and that’s okay. I only hope their first generation stories of family humor or love or adventure come easy and that there is never any pain I pass down that hurts their hearts enough to silence them.

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Tuesday Riddell — The Fairy Ring  (gold & silver leaf, gold powder, lustre powder and paint on japanned board, 2021)

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Moon, Jupiter, and Venus l Bray Falls

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Love letter from Mark Twain to his wife Livy.

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