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Richmond, California. A grandfather holds his grandchildren. Photo by Joseph Rodriguez. Courtesy of Magnum Photos. his year on Father’s Day, I showed up to my father’s house empty handed, much like he’d shown up to mine my entire life. When he asked what I had planned for the afternoon, I shot out random activities, “Let’s just…
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by Alex Webb courtesy of Magnum Photos I have always been seen as someone who’s lived an incredible life. I had traversed five continents, created diplomatic ties in three nations, become the youngest ever opinion contributor to the New York Times, received national acclaim for work in public radio, obtained a fully funded ivy league education, climbed…
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East Harlem, 1980 Joseph Rodriguez When I was eight years old I wished death upon my father. It was a silent prayer I recited again & again one evening as I lay awake on my mother’s floor manically watching the door for some sign of his return. I knew he was in jail that night;…
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Hello Friends, I am excited to share with you a new project. With all the questions & letters I’ve received on social media concerning life advice, culture recommendations, new projects, etc. I’ve been wanting to write an old school advice column where I field questions from readers. However, the column format is outdated and not…
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YOU CANNOT KNOW ME A POEM You cannot know me. Today there is no good news There is no joy to be had No use whining over milk half full Last night I threw the glass If we’re close to ceasing fire The trumpets aren’t yet heard I’m simply melting in the heat…
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A POEM I thought my house belonged to me, But the things we build we never keep. The objects we hold mighty close Are seldom things we come to own. I thought cause I had laid the brick, I might’ve owned my home. Because I’d planted thyme and basil, I might reap what I’d sown. …
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hen my father was seven he and his best friend Phil cut their index fingers open and placed them together to create a “blood pact” that they would always be brothers. To this day I still call Phil my uncle and cannot think of anyone that my father has showed more inalienable loyalty and care…
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‘m seventeen. I’ve just finished another closing shift at American Apparel. Time is bending towards ten o’ clock. I pull on jeans under a spandex skirt & a hoodie over my crop top, hoping to look a little less ‘teenage dream’ for the two bus rides and uphill walk I’m about to take home. My mother…
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he summer before my sophomore year of college I began dating a painter. He was a twenty-three year old, six-foot Harlemite named Parris. As an artist, Parris made a lot of things that summer: wire sculptures, stained glassed mosaics, oil paintings — but no work was as interesting as what he made of me. That summer, for…
BIANCA VIVION 