Everybody assumes I’m one or the other, at first. Sometimes it becomes a game, a mental tally of points in each column, trying to prove the original guess.
Lucy and Kit sat waiting side by side on a black leather couch, before a long glass window that looked out over Tribeca, the winter sun in their laps. Kit stole sideward glances at Lucy, who hummed, twisting her hair around her fingers in a compulsive fashion.
Meiselas speaks with fellow photographer Lyon on the occasion of his recent survey exhibition at the Menil Collection in Houston.
Hello my name is Moc and today I have make my first sex on camera. Just for you @ 1stsexoncamera.com
This First Proof contains the an excerpt from the novel This Is The House That Horse Built.
All I can remember about Bombay was everything seemed to be out of control.
I made the mistake of going there early the other day, get this, I walk in, and I’m, like, the only hustler.
To separate from the past and drift away from the present becomes one sudden thought, yet everything I own is the accumulation of 23 years of life and I cannot go very far from my truths. I should have a job.
Eddie Owens Martin led a bizarre life as an artist, hustler, fortune teller, architect, and religious visionary. His most remarkable artistic endeavor was re-inventing himself as St. EOM.
This is what Abhor, who’s my partner and part robot, told me was her childhood: