I am five feet tall, have lived in Seattle for decades without owning an umbrella, and photograph every face I find — in museums, on walls, carved into the ends of pews. These things are related.
Frida, Fashion, and the Dream That Followed Me Home
This isn’t quite a travelogue. It’s more like a dream I had while awake, somewhere in Coyoacán. Every word is true—just not all of it happened in the usual way.