this is very silly of me, but I made a Patreon for postcards, so if you like receiving mail, feel free to check it out :^)
September cards went out a little late on account of the holiday, but expect cards from the Whitney and Fotografiska 💌📮📪
this is very silly of me, but I made a Patreon for postcards, so if you like receiving mail, feel free to check it out :^)
September cards went out a little late on account of the holiday, but expect cards from the Whitney and Fotografiska 💌📮📪
Sidney Poitier,
Harry Belafonte,
Charlton Heston and Burt Lancaster at the Lincoln Memorial during the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom in Washington DC on August 28, 1963.
Gina Lollobrigida with Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis in Trapeze (1956). Photograph: Allstar/Cinetext/United Artists
BURT LANCASTER as Bill Saunders in
KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS (1948) dir. Norman Foster
Liv Tyler in Stealing Beauty (1996).
they’ve always said, when you feel a random shiver, that a rabbit has run across your future grave
Also available on Instagram
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
— Sylvia Plath