#we move on to langston hughes

[ominouspositivity-or-else]

done with it!!! it just needs to be edited!!! :DDD

i want a good grade so im writing a paper SPECIFICALLY aimed at a professor and what he will enjoy seeing.

[ms-demeanor]

In my college American poetry class we had to do memorized readings of three poems, one of the ones I chose was Langston Hughes' "Weary Blues" because I'd already built a dramatic performance of it in high school.

This was an interesting college class because it was tiny (16 students at the start of the quarter, 12 at the end) and because it was *poetry* a lot of people in the class fudged the readings and did them the day of class, which meant that they weren't really prepared to discuss them. After two excruciating classes in a row where I was the only person ready to discuss the readings (in the second class I literally had to sit on my hands to keep myself from trying to speak after the professor said "Alli cannot answer for the rest of the hour, somebody else say something" and then nobody did for another ten minutes of the most awkward silence I have ever encountered), the professor brought in lyric sheets for "Summertime" from Porgy and Bess.

He started the class with our normal written quiz, then asked who was ready to talk. I was, because of course I was, but nobody else raised their hands.

"If you're not going to talk, then you're going to sing," he said, and handed out lyrics to everyone. "We are all adults, and we have an adult agreement that you will read the assignments and be prepared to discuss them, and I will lead discussions and teach you about the readings. You are not holding up your end of the agreement like adults, so I'm treating you like children, and your participation for the last three classes will not be based on your quizzes - which is good news for a lot of you - but on doing a sing-along today. So I'm going to sing this first, then we're going to sing it five times together, and then we're going to talk about the song together, and you are going to do your readings before my next class or I am going to be handing out more lyrics and we'll sing another song together like kindergartens."

That class is why the four students who dropped did so, but everyone who stayed was prepared for discussions for the rest of the quarter.

Anyway, that was before our second poetry presentation so by that point I'd already sung with these people and had no shame, so i decided I was going to actually sing the singer's part in "Weary Blues."

I recorded it on my phone and asked my friend Lindsey, who was in the class and happened to be a choir director, to listen to it and tell me if it sounded terrible. She said that it did not and asked if I had any vocal training and I said no and she said "you should join a choir" and i felt very flattered and continued practicing and memorizing the poem.

We had to give critiques of each person's performance, and most people were generally polite like you normally would be when giving feedback, but apparently one young woman was still pissed at me for being a suck-up and doing the assigned readings.

"First of all i couldn't even pay attention to the rest of the poem because you sound like a man. I think singing was a weird choice and singing like a man made it impossible for me to take your reading seriously" and i was a bit surprised (so were other people) but simply said "thank you, that's good to know, i was trying to sound like a man because the speaker in the poem describes the singer as a man, it's good to know i hit that mark" and we moved on.

Lindsey and the professor both checked in on me at the end of class, Lindsey to say "practice made that sound really really really good you should join a choir" and the professor to say "i was leery when you asked to sing part of your poem, i don't usually allow that but I'm glad i did" and both to ask if I was upset by the other student's comments.

I was not upset. Mentally i was jumping up and down and doing backflips and was bummed because the other student was probably just being mean and didn't actually think my voice sounded masculine.

But now I'm finding videos with titles like "is that my mom or a dude? Learning about the contralto range" and I'm like haha wait yeah, gender euphoria is stored in the vocal cords.

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

Hey so like many of you, I saw that article about how people are going into college having read no classic books. And believe it or not, I've been pissed about this for years. Like the article revealed, a good chunk of American Schools don't require students to actually read books, rather they just give them an excerpt and tell them how to feel about it. Which is bullshit.

So like. As a positivity post, let's use this time to recommend actually good classic books that you've actually enjoyed reading! I know that Dracula Daily and Epic the Musical have wonderfully tricked y'all into reading Dracula and The Odyssey, and I've seen a resurgence of Picture of Dorian Gray readership out of spite for N-tflix, so let's keep the ball rolling!

My absolute favorite books of all time are The Haunting of Hill House and We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson. Classic psychological horror books about unhinged women.

I adore The Bad Seed by William March. It's widely considered to be the first "creepy child" book in American literature, so reading it now you're like "wow that's kinda cliche- oh my god this is what started it. This was ground zero."

I remember the feelings of validation I got when people realized Dracula wasn't actually a love story. For further feelings of validation, please read Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. There's a lot the more popular adaptations missed out on.

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier is an absolute gem of a book. It's a slow-build psychological study so it may not be for everyone, but damn do the plot twists hit. It's a really good book to go into blind, but I will say that its handling of abuse victims is actually insanely good for the time period it was written in.

Moving on from horror, you know people who say "I loved this book so much I couldn't put it down"? That was me as a kid reading A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Picked it up while bored at the library and was glued to it until I finished it.

Peter Pan and Wendy by JM Barrie was also a childhood favorite of mine. Next time someone bitches about Woke Casting, tell them that the original 1911 Peter Pan novel had canon nonbinary fairies.

Watership Down by Richard Adams is my sister Cori's favorite book period. If you were a Warrior Cats, Guardians of Ga'Hoole or Wings of Fire kid, you owe a metric fuckton to Watership Down and its "little animals on a big adventure" setup.

A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry was a play and not a book first, but damn if it isn't a good fucking read. It was also named after a Langston Hughes poem, who's also an absolutely incredible author.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury is a book I absolutely adore and will defend until the day I die. It's so friggin good, y'all, I love it more than anything. You like people breaking out of fascist brainwashing? You like reading and value knowledge? You wanna see a guy basically predict the future of television back in 1953? Read Fahrenheit.

Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain and To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee are considered required reading for a reason: they're both really good books about young white children unlearning the racial biases of their time. Huck Finn specifically has the main character being told that he will go to hell if he frees a slave, and deciding eternal damnation would be worth it.

As a sidenote, another Mark Twain book I was obsessed with as a kid was A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. Exactly what it says on the tin, incredibly insane read.

If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin is a heartbreaking but powerful book and a look at the racism of the time while still centering the love the two black protagonists feel for each other. Giovanni's Room by the same author is one that focuses on a MLM man struggling with his sexuality, and it's really important to see from the perspective of a queer man living in the 50s– as well as Baldwin's autobiographical novel, Go Tell it on the Mountain.

Agatha Christie mysteries are all still absolutely iconic, but Murder on the Orient Express is such a good read whether or not you know the end twist.

Maybe-controversial-maybe-not take: Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov is a good book if you have reading comprehension. No, you're not supposed to like the main character. He pretty much spells that out for you at the end ffs.

Animal Farm by George Orwell was another favorite of mine; it was written as an obvious metaphor for the rise of fascism in Russia at the time and boy does it hit even now.

And finally, please read Shakespeare plays. As soon as you get used to their way of talking, they're not as hard to understand as people will lead you to believe. My absolute favorite is Twelfth Night- crossdressing, bisexual love triangles, yellow stockings... it's all a joy.

and those are just the ones i thought of off the top of my head! What're your guys' favorite classic books? Let's make everyone a reading list!

[makingqueerhistory]

I know you used to have a book wishlist, where did that go?

Yes I did, it was gently retired, though we had some very generous people who sent me books (THANK YOU <3 I continue to be shocked and warmed by this community's generosity) I found that I am much more of an audiobook person. I have trouble keeping information in my mind if I am reading it physically. That being said, I have also begun requesting books from my local library, which has been a massive resource that has assisted me more than I could have imagined before I started using it.

That being said, there are some books that I wish I had access to still, just because they don't have audiobooks. Currently my list is made up of:

Feeling Backward: Loss and the Politics of Queer History by Heather Love: "Feeling Backward" makes an effort to value aspects of historical gay experience that now threaten to disappear, branded as embarrassing evidence of the bad old days before Stonewall. It looks at early-twentieth-century queer novels often dismissed as "too depressing" and asks how we might value and reclaim the dark feelings that they represent. Heather Love argues that instead of moving on, we need to look backward and consider how this history continues to affect us in the present.

Prairie Fairies: A History of Queer Communities and People in Western Canada, 1930-1985 by Valerie Korinek: Prairie Fairies draws upon a wealth of oral, archival, and cultural histories to recover the experiences of queer urban and rural people in the prairies. Focusing on five major urban centres, Winnipeg, Saskatoon, Regina, Edmonton, and Calgary, Prairie Fairies explores the regional experiences and activism of queer men and women by looking at the community centres, newsletters, magazines, and organizations that they created from 1930 to 1985.　

Racism and the Making of Gay Rights: A Sexologist, His Student, and the Empire of Queer Love by Laurie Marhoefer: Racism and the Making of Gay Rights shows how Hirschfeld laid the groundwork for modern gay rights, and how he did so by borrowing from a disturbing set of racist, imperial, and eugenic ideas. Yet on his journey with Li, Hirschfeld also had inspiring moments - including when he formulated gay rights as a broad, anti-colonial struggle and as a movement that could be linked to Jewish emancipation. Following Hirschfeld and Li in their travels through the American, Dutch, and British empires, from Manila to Tel Aviv to having tea with Langston Hughes in New York City, and then into exile in Hitler's Europe, Laurie Marhoefer provides a vivid portrait of queer lives in the 1930s and of the turbulent, often-forgotten first chapter of gay rights.

If you wanted to fund my ability to get my queer hands on these books, here is the link:

[gwydionmisha]

Advice to the Able-Bodied Poet Entering the Disability Poetics Workshop -  Liv Mammone

For Jennifer Bartlett and Shira Erlichman

1. Let's just save time—Yes I have seen Rain Man, The Miracle Worker, My Left Foot, or, more recently, The Theory of Everything. I wanna fuck Daniel Day Lewis too but can we not? 2. If all the the Special Needs Kids everybody's mom/cousin/friend/friend's mom/cousin's friend's mom has ever worked with got together, they could overthrow the government and we'd see some real change. Those people aren't reference points for me. There are no reference points for me. 3. This isn't the Whose Life Sucks More game. You have seen moments I can never imagine. 4. When asking about my disability, please remember you have Siri. What you really need to know will come up in the poems. 5. Similarly, if you decide you need to ask my diagnosis, I can guarantee those ugly sounding words are all I have in common with whoever you know. If you don't know anyone, asking me what does that mean isn't ingratiating. I'm not a painting by Warhol. Asterisk: if you're just meeting me and that's your opening? That, or so what happened to you—you're suspect. I have a favorite band, a gaggle of furry children. Let's start there. 6. The words disability, disorder, and disease aren't synonymous. 7. And while we're at it, let's talk about language. You're here for that above all right? Me too. But I get to decide how it's done, not you. If I say cripple, it's because I like how the consonants break like bones. I'm not handing you a membership card. If I say call me "special needs" and I'll roll over your foot, it doesn't mean that softness won't comfort others. Political correctness is kind of like using correct pronouns. So many words have been made up and thrown onto my flesh. None were my name. 8. If you didn't get the above reference to pronouns, I'll write a separate piece for you. 9. Your ear will need to curve around the rhythm of speech. Your pace will hunger to leave me limping. You will want to catch me as I lurch forward; lead me by elbow or hand; not to repeat yourself; to talk as fast as you do out there. Slow down. Slow everything down. 10. The phrase but you don't look sick can go fuck itself with a moving train covered in chainsaws. 11. Don't use the word inspiration unless you're talking about Whitman, Langston Hughes, John Keats or Jesus. 12. Matter of fact, leave Jesus out of it altogether; he's busy enough. 13. It isn't a wheelchair; it's a fully automated battle station. It isn't a cane; it's a dowsing rod. It isn't a limp; it's a swagger. It isn't a stim—it's how my fabulous self is pulling magic out of the air. 14. I'm not your metaphor. Phantom limbs, deafness, or blindness as figurative language in your poems will result in my unhinging my fucking jaw. 15. If you find yourself saying something that begins with no offense, but I want you to stop. Take a breath. And say to yourself these three sentences: Does this need to be said? Does this need to be said right now? Does this need to be said right now by me? If the answer to any of those is no, return to start do not collect $200. 16. Laugh. 17. Be honest. 18. Your head had best be a microscope. Ask yourself why you're here. But question my motives, too. Slam your hand hard on my buttons. 19. Some kind of dragon needed slaying to get to this room, whether it be the nasty bus driver or the thoughts of suicide. So somebody's probably gonna show up in pajamas, crocks, mismatched socks, un showered, hair falling loose from ponytail—whatever. Either they're embarrassed or don't give a fuck. Either way, they don't need you mentioning it. 20. Speak for me, not over me. 21. Yes, I can have sex. I hope everybody in here writes a jam so graphic it makes your goosebumps mambo just so you never ask a disabled person that ever again, unless you're offering. 22. I don't think shy people become poets, but in case you are, you best chill if you fear the body. If I'm gonna write a colostomy bag free verse or a pantoum about how hard it is to negotiate my period on crutches, I wanna do it in peace. 23. You need Advil? Guaranteed, somebody got you. 24. If I have to leave the room while you're reading, sorry in advance. 25. Let me point out, Tiny Tim has been fucking me over since 1843. If I'm happy, it's taken for a miracle; if I'm not, I remind them of all they have and all the work they have to do. I could be a big smile, a raised fist, an eye glittered with tears. 26. This is the place I come to sharpen my teeth; to weep until I am the Danube. I don't care if you're frightened. 27. Trigger warnings. That is all. 28. Halle Berry, Harriet Tubman, Orlando Bloom, Clinton, Christie, Darwin. A lot of your faves are disabled. Just like a lot of your faves are actually bisexual. (More breaking news at 11.) 29. And while we're on that, being disabled doesn't mean you've checked off your minority box on the form. Just saying. 30. I don't want to talk about me; how's my stanza structure? 31. Intersectionality isn't a buzzword. 32. I will ask if I need your help. Repeat this a billion times. 33. Related note: you wouldn't grab someone on the subway. You'd let your face smash into the pole before steadying yourself on the person next to you. So why in the name of God's teeth would you touch me or whatever apparatus I may have without asking?! 34. Remember, you're one slip in the shower, doctor's visit, missed turn away from being me. 35. If I fall, the way you gasp hurts worse than impact. 36. I'm not blaming you. I'm saying pay attention. 37. Inevitably, someone will be forced to stop coming. Email them; that'd be cool. 38. Even if you pity me, don't mess around when it comes to editing. 39. Your body is so damn fucking beautiful. It's like nothing else. 40. Please remember that compliance with any or all of the aforementioned will not result in praise of any kind, cookies, medals, or otherwise. Thank you. 41. People are like poems. They don't get finished, they just stop.

[volvincer]

A Raisin In The Sun by Lorraine Hansberry

This play is considered revolutionary for its time; being the first drama by an African American woman to be produced on Broadway. Within the text, Hansberry crafts dialogue for the main characters by incorporating AAVE (African American Vernacular English) which flouted the expectations of plays being written in Standard English. The play was named 'A Raisin in the Sun', which was taken from lines of the poem 'Harlem' by Langston Hughes; a poem that addresses the lost American Dreams that many African Americans once had and how they are deprived of ever achieving their goals. A.R.I.T.S was truly a piece of incredible literary fiction in which I urge everyone to read.

A Raisin in the Sun is a play written by Lorraine Hansberry, an African American playwright in the 1950s. The play is set in America, specifically in Chicago during the 50s. The location is extremely necessary to understand the context as well as the plot of the play. It is a mirror to the writer, Lorraine Hansberry's own life; just like in the play, she also experienced her neighbourhood being seized under the oppressive redlining and the segregation between Black and White Americans. The play was both an acknowledgement of the social and economic deprivation that African Americans faced, as well as juggling the main theme of the American Dream between each member of the Younger family.

From initial review, being that it is a play, it was quite quick to read. I had also watched the movie after finishing the play, which starred Danny Glover who played as Walter Younger. We readers view the life of the Younger family, who are hard working and all have their own dreams to pursue. In reality, to pursue the American Dream is often thought of as following a lonely path. All of the Younger's were reaching for their own ideal, the divide in the family caused the relationships to fall apart. The Younger household had faced such desperation and discontent with their current lives that each member had their American dream relying on a single insurance check.

In the end after a big conflict, they came together as a family as they realised that they are stronger as one..it is a very heart warming and emotionally moving story…the topics of racism, religion, gender, culture assimilation and classism were very strong throughout the text. Even if you have not done research behind the context of the play, you will still be able to easily find these main themes in the text. There is an idea of hope and change that is symbolised within a plant which goes through many changes throughout the play; it is looked after by Lena, it is the heart of the family. Hansberry's A Raisin in the Sun is truly a beautiful play that emphasises the importance of family, and how our own plant will be more supported if our roots are closer together.

For ones who are not so interested in reading, I highly recommend viewing the film/TV version (1989), which stars actors such as Danny Glover as Walter Lee Younger and Esther Rolle as Mama (Lena) Younger. During this movie, I felt as though the characters I had grown fond of in the raw text had come to life in this adaption, I hope that you too will find the acting just as heart-touching.

Link: A Raisin In The Sun (1989) full movie Link: Harlem by Langston Hughes

(1951) HARLEM

BY LANGSTON HUGHES

What happens to a dream deferred?

      Does it dry up

      like a raisin in the sun?

      Or fester like a sore—

      And then run?

      Does it stink like rotten meat?

      Or crust and sugar over—

      like a syrupy sweet?

      Maybe it just sags

      like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

[egoschwank]

al things considered — when i post my masterpiece #1414

first posted in facebook march 27, 2025

romare bearden -- "autumn lamp" (1983)

"the artist has to be something like a whale swimming with his mouth wide open, absorbing everything until he has what he really needs" … romare bearden

"beauty for some provides escape, who gain a happiness in eyeing the gorgeous buttocks of the ape or autumn sunsets exquisitely dying" … langston hughes

"sometimes the mind relives things very clearly for us … there are roads out of secret places within us along which we all must move as we go to touch others" … romare bearden

"swim like a whale … and let's play two today" … al janik

[mercerislandbooks]

Book Notes: Harlem Rhapsody

The great benefit of historical fiction is the opportunity to fill in knowledge gaps. Have you ever heard of Jessie Redmon Fauset? No? Neither had I until I picked up Victoria Christopher Murray’s newest novel, Harlem Rhapsody.

Harlem Rhapsody begins in 1919. Jessie Redmon Fauset, 37, is moving to Harlem to begin work as the literary editor of The Crisis, the magazine of the NAACP run by W. E. B. Du Bois. Fourteen years her senior, Du Bois has been Jessie’s mentor and advocate as she’s pursued her own literary goals while teaching French in Washington, D. C. Now, Jessie is bringing to Harlem her love of literature and her deep commitment to forwarding opportunities for emerging Black writers, intending to make The Crisis into a showcase of talent. In doing so, she discovers and mentors the young writers of the time that will come to be known as members of the Harlem Renaissance; writers like Langston Hughes, Countee Cullen and Nella Larsen.

Harlem Rhapsody covers the years of Jessie’s tenure as the literary editor at The Crisis. Victoria Christopher Murray brings to life a woman who is beyond excellent at her job, and breaking barriers by being the first Black woman in such a position. But Jessie’s life is filled not just with ambition, but also complexity. She’s not interested in the path of marriage and motherhood. Jessie is a talented writer and novelist in her own right. Yet as a Black woman she still has consider societal expectations. Jessie’s clandestine romantic relationship with Du Bois, a married man, is a constant source of strain in that regard. The plot is driven by Jessie exploring all that her role as literary editor has to offer, helping others reach their full potential, being inspired to finish her own novel, There Is Confusion, and the vibrancy of life in Harlem. When Jessie recognizes that W. E. B. Du Bois ultimately sees The Crisis as the voice of his own agenda, she must decide where her future lies.

Getting a window into the energy and creativity of the beginning of the Harlem Renaissance was fascinating. Being reminded how necessary it is for creatives to have support and constructive encouragement to thrive made me reflect on all the people behind an author, helping to bring their words into existence. We none of us exist in a vacuum, and I loved thinking that I’m a part of it all, at the end of the process, putting books into hands. The ways in which we still struggle to understand each other made me consider that it’s important to keep trying, keep reading, keep learning, one pocket of history at a time.

— Lori

[90363462]

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thegrio

🎉 Happy Heavenly Birthday to the Legendary Langston Hughes! 🖤

Today, we celebrate the life and legacy of Langston Hughes—a literary giant whose words still move, inspire, and empower us today. Hughes wasn’t just a poet; he was a cultural force, a storyteller of the Black experience, and a leading voice of the Harlem Renaissance.

💡Did you know?

Hughes wrote his first poem in the 8th grade, already showing signs of brilliance.

He published his first book of poetry, The Weary Blues, in 1926, capturing the rhythm of jazz and the soul of Black America.

He used his platform to elevate the struggles and joys of everyday Black life, rejecting pressure to conform to white literary standards.

His famous essay, The Negro Artist and the Racial Mountain, challenged Black creatives to embrace their culture unapologetically.

Hughes’ work laid the foundation for future generations of poets, activists, and artists—from Maya Angelou to Tupac Shakur.

His words remind us to stand tall, dream big, and never let our voices be silenced.

Drop a comment below if Langston Hughes’ work has ever touched your heart. 👇🏽

[whereareroo]

PERSEVERANCE

WF THOUGHTS (1/20/25).

Today, in addition to watching the Inaugural Address and making some entries in my “Trump Notebook,” I reread some Martin Luther King speeches.

Even though he was inspirational and full of important messages, most of King’s speeches are difficult to digest. Too many words. Too much complexity. They’re not for everyone.

Everybody knows about the “I Have A Dream” speech. Most folks also know about King’s famous final speech: “I’ve Been To The Mountaintop.” Great speeches. You can watch them online.

The King speech that is most relevant on this Inauguration Day is called “Keep Moving From This Mountain.” It’s about perseverance in the face of difficulty. King’s metaphor is a bit difficult to understand. In essence, King argues that the true “Promised Land” in America lies beyond a big mountain range. Getting to the Promised Land involves overcoming great obstacles and moving from mountain to mountain. In the face of those obstacles, success is all about perseverance, perseverance, and perseverance.

At the end of the speech, to drive his point home, King quotes from Langston Hughes- -the great American poet and biracial social activist. Here’s how Hughes preached perseverance in a poem called “Mother To Son” from 1922:

“Well son, I’ll tell you

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it, splinters,

Boards torn up, places with no carpets on the floors, bare!

But all the time, I’ve been a-climbing on and reaching landings

And turning corners and sometimes going in the dark where there ain’t been no light.

So boy, don’t you stop now.

Don’t you sit down on the steps because you find it’s kinda hard.

For I’se still going boy, I’se still climbing,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.”

King restated the whole poem in a single sentence:

“We must keep moving: If you can’t fly, run: If you can’t run, walk: If you can’t walk, crawl: but by all means keep moving forward.”

Let’s listen to Martin and Langston. Despite the obstacles, we must do our best to keep moving forward. God Bless America.

[ PS: The best Langston Hughes poem, from 1935, is “Let America Be America Again.” Here’s the best line:

“O, yes

I say it plain,

America never was America to me,

And yet I swear this oath—

America will be!”]

[imnothinginparticular]

#finishedbooks A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry. Picked this up at the free book store in Baltimore. Recall watching the 1961 film with my grandfather and later at school that had that original Broadway cast from the play that included Sydney Poitier and Ruby Dee. It is my favorite adaptation although the 1989 PBS version with Danny Glover is just as good that even including left out sections in the 1961 film. The most notable section was of the sister going natural with her hair which predated the "black is beautiful" movement that popularized the idea later in that decade going into the 70s. With a running time of nearly 3 hours, I guess they weren't easy editing decisions. But for those uninitiated the story tells of a family's attempt to improve their existence with a pending insurance check payout. Featuring well rounded complex characters, each has their own dream and in dealing with housing discrimination, assimilation and racism...struggle to stay together. The title comes from a Langston Hughes poem, "What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?" It was the first play to be written and produced on Broadway by an African American woman as well to feature a black director. Unfortunately, she died just 6 years later at age 34 making for one of the bigger "what if's" in our history as she had a lot to say. Her family challenged restrictive housing covenant in a famous Supreme Court case and I was always impressed with what Baldwin recalled in her telling the president off in a private meeting on civil rights. He recalled her as the strongest person in the room among men and in addition as a lesbian she spoke out for gay rights as well.The play stands the test of time for better or worse as the same problems exist and found Amiri Baraka's reevaluation of the play to exemplify this, "We missed the essence of the work - that Hansberry had created a family on the cutting edge of the same class and ideological struggles as existed in the movement itself and among the people...The Younger family is part of the black majority and the concerns I once dismissed as 'middle class'- buying a home and moving into 'white folks' neighborhood's - are actually reflective of the essence if black people's striving and the will to defeat segregation, discrimination, and national oppression. There is no such thing as a 'white folks' neighborhood except to racists and to those submitting to racism."

[alltheflair]

The Creative Side: Rafael Arturo Shabazz

Courtesy Photo: Rafael Arturo Shabazz

Rafael Arturo Shabazz, an Afro-Latino photographer, published author, poet, musician, and visual artist, has quite the portfolio.

“Less is more and after all there is beauty in simplicity when you think about the art of photography. My mission is to magnify the visions of my collaborators, my clients and create images that reflect everyday life and beyond,” Rafael said on the Instagram account for SKIN & BONE, his company.

Born and raised in Dorchester, Massachusetts, Shabazz grew up in low-income housing with his mom, who worked a part-time job for $9 an hour. His mom worked hard to maintain the household, but it was unstable, and domestic violence was present.

“I’ve gone through bullying most of my life. I’ve had a speech impediment growing up because my primary language was Spanish, but then I had to adapt to the Boston public school system and learn the English language.” Shabazz said. “In the process, I fell in love with literature as literature became a bridge to gap the alienation of where I come from and how I grew up. Falling in love with literature introduced me to poetry, and introduced me to Langston Hughes, so journaling became a safe haven for me whenever I felt too different or couldn’t fit in certain places, or I felt alone or I felt like I needed to express myself… I resorted to poetry.”

Fast forward to high school, Shabazz continued painting, but took on sewing and designing pieces. He still kept his love for poetry, and found himself listening to jazz and expanding his music taste. Out of high school, Shabazz packed up and moved to Paris and got his first full-time job cleaning floors in a hospital. He took his mom’s camcorder with him to Paris, just like how she brought it to the Dominican Republic to capture moments with her family.

“I figured out that me and my mom have the same mentality when it comes to recording history. You know, documenting history, documenting ourselves. Growing up, there’s a battle between me and my mom low-key because she doesn’t let me do what I wanna do. There's a similarity between us. That’s a relationship I reflected on. While she was building a life for us and the struggles sort of prohibited my freedom into the world, we shared a lot of similar interests. So my mom is someone who has been very influential in my life.” Shabazz said.

Q: How did you come up with the name SKIN & BONE? What does it mean to you?

A: I came up with the name SKIN & BONE because I wanted it to relate to just the basis of fashion photography. And that is a person right in front of the lens expressing themselves through their clothing. SKIN & BONE has always been about fashion. The root of how I started was with landscape photography and documenting the times. So, I still wanted to incorporate that and that rawness of capturing time is embedded within the metaphorical meaning of skin and bone. It’s just raw. SKIN & BONE on a more technical aspect, is like, yes, I’m capturing people, you know, I’m capturing different kinds of people in different ways. So, it’s pretty much I came up with this slogan “SKIN & BONE: Show us you, show us who you are”.

Q: How would you describe your style of photography?

A: My strength is portraiture work, that’s something that I’ve recognized, I think within the last few years or so. My strength is capturing faces, literally faces, anything above the chest. So, I would describe my work to be sort of intricate, and sort of intimate in a way, but also natural and colorful.

Q: What do you think makes a perfect photograph?

A: What makes a perfect photograph is understanding what camera you’re using. I think once you understand the mechanics behind the camera and you understand yourself because now you’re able to filter out, or filter down, what type of photograph you intend to capture. I mean it really all just depends on how much time you spend with your hobbies. A perfect photograph depends on repetitive practice.

Q: Within this year, or the next two or three years, what goals do you want to achieve?

A: I got some big goals in my life. I feel like this is a way of manifesting it. That’s why I was so excited to pop on because I’m manifesting this. My goal is to do a Vogue cover, and also to be on ID Magazine, and O32c Magazine as well. These are the magazines that I resonate with, my type of style, and once that’s said and done I’m retiring. I’m done with photography, I have nothing else to prove.

Q: Are there any photographers that inspire you, or that you admire?

A: Yes, yes, one of them is Tyler Mitchell. He inspires me a lot. Another one is Helmut Newton. Newton is the guy who photographed this really infamous editorial of Yves Saint Laurent. It’s this woman in a full suit trying to pursue this other woman, and Newton plays a lot with different aspects of sexualities and incorporating fashion into both of those worlds and merging them. Mitchell focuses more on distorting reality with his backdrops, and telling intimate stories about boyhood or girlhood stuff like that. I really like that.

Q: Is there anything else you want the people to know?

A: I believe that I’m one of the best photographers in Massachusetts. Period. I really feel like, you know, the amount of time I’ve spent learning my craft has really proven itself over time. Even in that aspect it’s distinguished itself amongst other photographers. I like that because that’s special to me, to stand out sometimes in the art world. That is something I wanted to get off my chest. Another thing is obviously if you love what you do and invest 100% into it, it’ll come right back to you. Something else I wanted to share is SKIN & BONE is not a magazine. It’s just photography, and I don’t want people to get it confused because of the branding now.

These past couple of months, Shabazz has made big waves to kick off the year. Back in February, he sat down with host Paul Willis at the Frugal Bookstore and discussed Shabazz’s journey and SKIN & BONE. And just earlier this month, Shabazz landed his first art gallery exhibition at the Urbanica Gallery in Roxbury, Massachusetts.

“This exhibition is dedicated to Dorchester, Roxbury, my friends, loved ones, and the art of repetition.” Shabazz said via the SKIN & BONE Instagram.

If you want to learn more about Shabazz, see more of his work, book a photoshoot or consultation, or buy his book, “I.S.A.A.C,” click here.

[amitapaul]

15/8

8/4/24

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#24GloPoWriMo

Prompt Dated : 2024 April 8

Response No : 1

Poem No: 15

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Prompt : Write a poem that centers around an encounter or relationship between two people (or things) that shouldn’t really have ever met – whether due to time, space, age, the differences in their nature, or for any other reason.

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Featured Poem :

Today, we have two featured participants: (1) Behind Door Number 3 and Orangepeel, where you’ll find very differnt, but compelling, takes on Day 7’s postcard prompt.

1

Behind Door No 3

Postcard, unwritten.

The sound of his laughter,

as slick as watermelon seeds,

tastes like the feeling of

bare feet running through

a sprinkler made rainbow

hovering above the thick

scent of a shaded, mown lawn.

There is a wicker porch chair

proposing a seamless, wide-angle

view of this scene; its empty

cushions missing the welcomed

weight of your presence, and

the posture of all the stories

you would have told.

2.

Orangepeel

Postcard to the Ex

There's a bear in the back yard

and piranhas in the kitchen sink.

The kids are dressing like clowns

and the bank took back the TV.

The car lost a wheel and a door.

Someone painted our windows black.

Your favorite chair caught fire,

and last night during the storm,

a huge tree limb crashed

through the bedroom ceiling

and onto your side of the bed.

Wish you were here.

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Poetry Resource :

Our featured resource today is this animated video of a talk given by the poet Jane Hirshfield on the art of the metaphor.

The Elephant in the Room, Still waters run deep.

Fog

The fog comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on.

Carl Sandburg

****

Mother to Son

BY LANGSTON HUGHES

Well, son, I’ll tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor—

Bare.

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

So boy, don’t you turn back.

Don’t you set down on the steps

’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now—

For I’se still goin’, honey,

I’se still climbin’,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

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Prompt : Today, we challenge you to write a poem that centers around an encounter or relationship between two people (or things) that shouldn’t really have ever met – whether due to time, space, age, the differences in their nature, or for any other reason.

Our ( optional) prompt for the day takes its inspiration from Laura Foley’s poem “Year End.”

Year End

I want to bury him

though I doubt it's appropriate

for a butterfly.

Perhaps I'll climb the icy hill,

trudge through woods and slippery snow,

to place him as close as I can to sky,

in the field he would have floated over,

on his way to Mexico,

if October hadn't been too cold for flight.

The orange-and-black-winged beauty

thrived, in his screened-in cage,

lit with purple happy lights,

and fed every day by hand,

his proboscis dipped in honey water,

until, on Christmas day,

he birthed three sacs of sperm,

a rare gift for me these days.

Finding no mate,

he folded his wings and died,

face pressed into the New Year's daisy

I gave him, as a human lover might.

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Poem Title : Lost in Sugga Falls

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We sat on the warm wet rocks of the graded gentle Sugga Falls

Named after the fabled Parrot of the legend of lovers

An Australian priest sang about in the unfamiliar language of the Munda tribe

With brushwood and ferns and mosses filling in the gaps

Left by the teak, sal, arjun, aasan, mahua, semal, palaash trees

For the sands of the Koel river and her husband explained

To the doctor couple from Delhi the healthcare needs

Of the local population. Trout leaped in the sunlit stream and I thought

One could not be closer to heaven, so I asked her

How long she would stay and she replied

“ I miss the bright lights and the malls.

I’m leaving next week. How soon do you think my husband’s deputation papers will come through ? “

Blind, blind, blind. And thus lost around us everyday.

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Poet : Amita Sarjit Ahluwalia

Poem 15/8th Day

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[literaryvein-reblogs]

Great addition! Also:

Although they sound similar, "would of" is incorrect. It is a misspelling of "would have". It doesn’t exist as grammatically correct phrase in English. Some people erroneously write would of instead of would have because that is how people pronounce the phrase in informal speech. When you contract would have to would’ve, it sounds similar to would of, so it’s an easy mistake to make.

Found this great article on the topic too:

"Of" is usually a preposition, but also may function as a verb, typically when used as a substitution for "have", as in ‘I could of written it correct, but wanted to see what you’d say if I didn’t.’

The reason for why of came to be used for have is that the latter word (and even more so its contracted form, seen in could’ve, should’ve, would’ve) is unstressed when spoken. There is very little phonetic difference between “I could’ve paid attention in English class” and “I could of paid attention in English class.” The spoken version of this is far more common than the written one, but there is considerable evidence of both.

This use, it should be noted, is widely shunned by usage guides, schoolteachers, people who send you annoying articles on social media about the declining state of education today, and well-nigh everyone else. So why do we define it? Because of that considerable evidence mentioned in the last paragraph.

A scouting report written by Captain Isaac Beall during the Revolutionary War contains a couple of our earlier instances of the word used in this fashion, illustrating that of, while not terribly common in writing at that time, has been with us for well over two hundred years now.

I was inform’d by a Capt’n of Molitia that about Two Hundred would be Imbodyed by Mondy Nite a plenty of Good Pilets are amongs them—if I could of been join’d by a party of the Molitia which I apply’d for I would of attacted the body that lay in the English Nabourhood, I had not a guid nor could Get non tell the Next day. —Isaac Beall, Letter to Adam Stephen, 20 Apr. 1777

The verb form of of begins to show up in print more often in the 19th century, generally when an author is attempting to replicate the speech of an uneducated person.

There lay the poor boy, dead enough: and all the doctors in Philadelphia couldn’t of been of no manner of service, so there warn’t any use in snivering and chafing. —Jabez Rankin, Spirit of the Times, 26 Dec. 1840 Now, old fellow, you might of heard that we like to have got into a war with the British about some boundary or other. —Portsmouth Journal of Literature and Politics, 5 Aug. 1843 The old man’s heart promptly quailed. He stood dumfounded and forgot Mandy and the other man’s wife in the face of his new foe. “If I’d of known it was you,” he said, “I wouldn’t of done it.” —The San Diego Union and Daily Bee, 3 Apr. 1893

The use appears to have been common enough that it was lampooned in an article in the late 19th century, along with questionable uses of the past tense of to do.

Possible past tense of verb done. Singular—I might, could, would or should of jest plumb done gone and done it. —The State (Columbia, SC), 16 Jul. 1893

There are many examples of prominent authors in the 20th century using forms such as could of, typically when rendered as dialogue.

I could of ended marrying the boy, and moving, and being killed, I think, as a punishment … I understand it. —David Mamet, A Scene-Australia (from No One Will Be Immune), 1994 Sure, I could of let you die, but I didn’t. Naw, I kept you with me—off and on. —Langston Hughes, Soul Gone Home (in The Collected Works of Langston Hughes: Vol. 5), 2002 I don’t know how you could of thought that when everybody knowed she’s been married—and she had a son. —James Baldwin, The Amen Corner, 1954 A lot of people cry. They could of heard it … anywhere. —Beth Henley, The Debutante Ball, 1991

The amount of written evidence produced over more than two centuries means that we are inclined to define a word, but it does not mean that we recommend that it be employed (unless, of course, it is for a desired effect).

commonly confused words

accept: to receive except: with the exclusion of

advice: recommendation (noun) advise: to recommend (verb)

adverse: unfavorable averse: opposed to

affect: to influence (verb); emotional response (noun) effect: result (noun); to cause (verb)

aisle: space between rows isle: island

allude: to make indirect reference to elude: to avoid

allusion: indirect reference illusion: false idea, misleading appearance

already: by this time all ready: fully prepared

altar: sacred platform or place alter: to change

altogether: thoroughly all together: everyone/everything in one place

a lot: a quantity; many of something allot: to divide or portion out

angel: supernatural being, good person angle: shape made by joining two straight lines

are: plural form of "to be" our: plural form of "my"

accent: pronunciation common to a region ascent: the act of rising or climbing assent: consent, agreement

assistance: help assistants: helpers

bare: nude, unadorned bear: to carry; an animal

beside: close to; next to besides: except for; in addition

boar: a wild male pig bore: to drill a hole through

board: piece of wood bored: uninterested

born: brought into life borne: past participle of "to bear" (carry)

breath: air taken in (noun) breathe: to take in air (verb)

brake: device for stopping break: destroy; make into pieces

buy: to purchase by: next to; through the agency of

canvas: heavy cloth canvass: to take a survey; a survey

capital: major city capitol: government building

choose: to pick chose: past tense of "to choose"

clothes: garments close: to shut; near cloths: pieces of fabric

coarse: rough course: path; series of lectures

complement: something that completes compliment: praise, flattery

conscience: sense of morality conscious: awake, aware

corps: regulated group corpse: dead body

council: governing body counsel: advice; to give advice

dairy: place where milk products are processed diary: personal journal

descent: downward movement dissent: disagreement

dessert: final, sweet course in a meal desert: to abandon; dry, sandy area

device: a plan; a tool or utensil devise: to create

discreet: modest, prudent behavior discrete: a separate thing, distinct

do: a verb indicating performance or execution of a task dew: water droplets condensed from air due: as a result of

dominant: commanding, controlling dominate: to control

die: to lose life; one of a pair of dice dye: to change or add color

dyeing: changing or adding color dying: losing life

elicit: to draw out illicit: illegal, forbidden

eminent: prominent imminent: about to happen

envelop: to surround (verb) envelope: container for a letter (noun)

everyday: routine, commonplace, ordinary (adj.) every day: each day, succession (adj. + noun)

fair: just, honest; a carnival; light skinned fare: money for transportation; food

farther: at a greater (measurable) distance further: in greater (non-measurable) depth

formally: conventionally, with ceremony formerly: previously

forth: forward fourth: number four in a list

gorilla: animal in ape family guerrilla: soldier specializing in surprise attacks

hear: to sense sound by ear here: in this place

heard: past tense of "to hear" herd: group of animals

hoard: a hidden fund or supply, a cache horde: a large group or crowd, swarm

hole: opening whole: complete; an entire thing

human: relating to the species homo sapiens humane: compassionate

its: possessive form of "it" it's: contraction for "it is"

knew: past tense of "know" new: fresh, not yet old

know: to comprehend no: negative

later: after a time latter: second one of two things

lead: heavy metal substance; to guide led: past tense of "to lead"

lessen: to decrease lesson: something learned and/or taught

lightning: storm-related electricity lightening: making lighter

loose: unbound, not tightly fastened lose: to misplace

maybe: perhaps (adv.) may be: might be (verb)

meat: animal flesh meet: to encounter mete: to measure; to distribute

medal: a flat disk stamped with a design meddle: to interfere, intrude metal: a hard organic substance mettle: courage, spirit, energy

miner: a worker in a mine minor: underage person (noun); less important (adj.)

moral: distinguishing right from wrong; lesson of a fable or story morale: attitude or outlook usually of a group

passed: past tense of "to pass" past: at a previous time

patience: putting up with annoyances patients: people under medical care

peace: absence of war piece: part of a whole; musical arrangement

peak: point, pinnacle, maximum peek: to peer through or look furtively pique: fit of resentment, feeling of wounded vanity

pedal: the foot lever of a bicycle or car petal: a flower segment peddle: to sell

personal: intimate; owned by a person personnel: employees

plain: simple, unadorned plane: to shave wood; aircraft (noun)

precede: to come before proceed: to continue

presence: attendance; being at hand presents: gifts

principal: foremost (adj.); administrator of a school (noun) principle: moral conviction, basic truth

quiet: silent, calm quite: very

rain: water drops falling; to fall like rain reign: to rule rein: strap to control an animal (noun); to guide or control (verb)

raise: to lift up raze: to tear down

rational: having reason or understanding rationale: principles of opinion, beliefs

respectfully: with respect respectively: in that order

reverend: title given to clergy; deserving respect reverent: worshipful

right: correct; opposite of left rite: ritual or ceremony write: to put words on paper

road: path rode: past tense of "to ride"

scene: place of an action; segment of a play seen: viewed; past participle of "to see"

sense: perception, understanding since: measurement of past time; because

sight: scene, view, picture site: place, location cite: to document or quote (verb)

stationary: standing still stationery: writing paper

straight: unbending strait: narrow or confining; a waterway

taught: past tense of "to teach" taut: tight

than: used to introduce second element; compared to then: at that time; next

their: possessive form of "they" there: in that place they’re: contraction for "they are"

through: finished; into and out of threw: past tense of "to throw" thorough: complete

to: toward too: also; very (used to show emphasis) two: number following one

track: course, road tract: pamphlet; plot of ground

waist: midsection of the body waste: discarded material; to squander

waive: forgo, renounce wave: flutter, move back and forth

weak: not strong week: seven days

weather: climatic condition whether: if wether: a neutered male sheep

where: in which place were: past tense of "to be"

which: one of a group witch: female sorcerer

whose: possessive for "of who" who’s: contraction for "who is"

your: possessive for "of you" you’re: contraction for "you are" yore: time long past

[maskedinstructor]

The Adventures of David Dashiki- Stories of an African America Hero... 2024- Year of the Black Man Aaaahhh! But What To Read ?

READING...

We have agreed that reading is our starting point. Then, here are some essential and brilliant authors that you must possess in your quiver as ammunition in the battle against illiteracy. Make no mistake, this is scholastic warfare. An ill-equipped reading warrior is only armed for his own demise. Secondly, on the battlefield, we must be able to fluently communicate. We must speak the same language. One cannot speak Swahili and the other, French. This type of preparation would only lead to disaster of major proportions.

Garvey is the primer. Other authors of significant fame and reputation that our young readers must master are: Arna Bontemps, Claude Brown, Ralph Ellison, Richard Wright, Alex Haley, Ta-Nehisi Coates, August Wilson, Malcolm X, Nelson Madela, W.E.B. DuBois, Calvin Baker, Junius Edwards, Yosef Ben-Jochannan, Harold Cruse, Maulana Karenga...

Female Authors: Alice Walker, Amanda Gorman, Toni Morrison, Chi Mammanda, Ngozi Adichie, Bell Hooks, Audre Lorde, Lorraine Hansberry, Terry McMillan, Ntozake Shange, Jesmyn Ward, Angela Davis, Ida B. Wells, Claudia Tate, Dorothy Koomson, Cheryl Clarke, Sioban Brooks, Elaine Brown, Ruby Bridges, Rosa Parks, Dorothy Porter...

Poetesses: Nikki Giovani, Maya Angelou, Phyllis Wheatley, Mari Evans...

Poets: Langston Hughes, Amiri Baraka, Paul Laurence Dunbar, Countee Cullen. Jean Toomer

We must read so that we can survive the myths. We live in a country in which myths about our character and industry have been propagated for centuries. History has not told our story with veracity and pride. We have been maligned. Therefore, we use the Year 2024 to read what WE have to say about US. If we do not read, we will succumb to the vicious lies spoken and written about us. Our children will never overcome in the current social environment. What is most important is that we read our story and focus on why is it important to omit the truth about what has happened and will continue to happen to us in America. This is a land of opportunity. It is our duty to reveal the truth. This can only be accomplished if we read, act, do, speak, question, create, develop, execute, move, pursue, respond, persevere, operate, persist, exert, represent, exploit,... Damn it! We must do something. The plan is that we read. Fill the knowledge gaps. Then act. The dormant days of life have ended. We are in the moment knowledge warriors.

Here are a few questions I advance: Why is it important that America omit our true history in our textbooks?

Why has America hidden the history, of our past, our successes and achievements from all who call themselves AMERICANS?

What has been taught are lies, propaganda and MYTHS.. America is a land of opportunity. We can right these wrongs. First , we must be armed with our own stories and triumphs. We must be READERS.

[rockatanskette]

Living in the USAmerican South is sad, but not (only) for the reasons you think. I had a meeting last week with a faculty member at a university with one of the only fully-funded creative writing MFAs in the country. A fully funded Master in Fine Arts program is funded entirely by the university: tuition, living expenses, with a stipend. They pay you to go to school there, in a country that charges upward of $120 grand for a three-year MFA. 600 people a year apply for the fewer than a dozen spots in this program.

When I asked what I could do to make myself stand out, he said, "The fact that you already live here may help." Because when people get accepted to this golden-ticket program, the politics of the South forces them elsewhere. And that breaks my fucking heart.

To be clear, I use the word "forces" incredibly intentionally. I fully understand how hostile Southern legislation and politics is to basically anyone who isn't a wealthy Christian cishet White man. I've lived here almost all my life as a queer Jewish person who can get pregnant—I've experienced a measure of that hostility firsthand.

But I've also experienced love and respect and compassion and community that goes undocumented because it's so damn ordinary. It's everywhere.

I think the community is the part that kills me, because minority groups in the South only get talked about on a national scale when we're the victims of crimes, which does a great disservice to the magnitude and depth of community in the South; the queer communities, the Black communities, the Jewish communities, the Muslim communities, the Latine and Indigenous and Desi and the list keeps on going. These demographics aren't outliers just because White supremacists say they are—they're the fucking fabric of the South. 56 percent of the Black population of the United States lives in the South; almost half the population of the state of Texas is Latine or Hispanic; Southern cities make up half the ten largest US populations of Indian-Americans, Pakistani-Americans, Irani-Americans, and honestly I could keep going. Do I even have to talk about Jews in Florida? I swear half of them go to my babushka's synagogue. Queer populations are historically harder to get a clear census of, but you bet your ass we're here too.

And, many of us are here on purpose, which is the part where I start turning my heartbreak into anger. Because do you know how fucking painful it is when you're venting about the evilest people on the planet making it basically illegal to live in the place you call home and your cousin from Jersey tells you to just move, already? I don't want to move. All my shit is here: my mountains and my swamps and my barbecue and my temple and the first girl I ever kissed and my favorite lesbian bar and my trans best friend and rodeos and biscuits and bourbon and blues and the random Yee Yee boy who followed me out of a bar in the rain at midnight the other night to tell a visibly queer me that I was driving with my trunk open and offered to close it so I didn't have to get out of my car. Which was terrifying until it became incredibly sweet.

Some of the best people I know live in the South. We are so much more and so much stronger than tokens and victims and if you think the South is populated entirely—or even mostly—by conservative White hicks, you're buying into a fascist racist queerphobic lie fueled by gerrymandering and the for-profit prison system. There are plenty of queer and liberal and leftist hicks of color down here, too, and we don't need the rest of the country siding with the Nazis in charge. Tell them to get out.

The faculty member I spoke to is an award-winning writer who has been compared to Langston Hughes, Etheridge Knight, and Gwendolyn Brooks. He grew up in a predominantly Black neighborhood in the North, then attended school in New England and the Pacific Northwest. He wasn't born in the South, but he lives here now.

I laughed when he said that living in the South might give me an advantage; partly at the irony, but partly because, "I'm not leaving the South until they make me. I learned that when I tried living in England for a year and spent the whole time wishing the US had free healthcare and trains. I love this place. I want to make it better."

He smiled a smile I've seen echoed in the faces of so many people who live their lives seeing raw beauty in a place dismissed as ugly and unsalvageable. It's tinged with sadness but born of joy.

"Yeah. I know exactly what you mean."