Sweetheart’s mama and I went to MoMA on Friday, for f-r-e-e! We got on what was both the longest and quickest moving line I’ve ever seen, and made it the three blocks into the museum in less than 5 minutes. At one point we were actually running. Amazing! A new exhibit (American art Hopper to O’keefe) was opening that very day so the place was slammed, but lucky for us, our plan was to bypass that madness, scoot past a couple of pretty stunning Pollocks and go to the Walker Evans American Photography show. It was glorious. Stark. Telling. Honest. Graceful.
Little by little the bird feathers its nest, and object by heart burnished object we surround ourselves with lovely necessities of memory and function. It is these things that make a silly Apartment a Home or a silly Wednesday an Occasion.
Whether my nest is an old farmhouse, a sixth floor tenement walk up, or a brownstone basement... whether I share it with family, vagabonds, women of heart and mind, or a little brown cat and a sweet ginger banjo, my principal joy is filling it with light and laughter (and corralling).
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