Renutva

The documentary film The Children of Vank tells the story about an Armenian family that survived the Dersim Massacre in 1938. Each of them lived in different cultures and beliefs. 

an anti-israel protest by turkish ultranationalists yesterday in instanbul surrounded a synagogue [neve shalom], kicked the doors, & threw rocks at the windows, saying it was revenge for israel keeping muslims from entering haram al-sharif & that they’ll be back today & every day after that for more

Or women with cinched waists, twirling in Edith Head gowns, or women alone, pathetic and desperate, or women concerned only with fashion and frivolity, or women who’ve developed an adjacent self so as to survive the cruel, everyday wrench of feeling ignored. Or women as both literal and emotional nurses, or whose nicknames boundary the spectrum of male gaze—“Miss Torso” and “Miss Lonelyhearts,” for instance.

Women with wants that are only attained once they’ve been siphoned through a man’s whims, freedoms and his own career-construction of the world. Women who only become visible once they place themselves into his line of vision; who’ve learned young that in order to be seen, she must provide him with an opportunity to swoop in. He’ll care if caring for means providing protection for her. He’ll care if her request for attention falls into his purview.

The women in Rear Window outnumber the men but they also end up murdered, attacked, and/​or broken-hearted. Having traded in their Edith Head gowns for more sensible trousers, they are now awarded entry into this man’s life. He’s napping mid-day—now with two broken legs—and only once he’s fully asleep, will she reach for her copy of Harper’s Bazaar. Being a woman is an old habit that dies hard.”

Serena makes these little horns which are popular amulets of good luck in Naples and other parts of Southern Italy. They are called “Cornicelli” in Italian and have ancient origins.

“This small workshop was opened by my parents. Now me and my sister continue the tradition. I make the horns here and she sells them downstairs, where we have a store.”

Jenny Diski

Or women with cinched waists, twirling in Edith Head gowns, or women alone, pathetic and desperate, or women concerned only with fashion and frivolity, or women who’ve developed an adjacent self so as to survive the cruel, everyday wrench of feeling ignored. Or women as both literal and emotional nurses, or whose nicknames boundary the spectrum of male gaze—“Miss Torso” and “Miss Lonelyhearts,” for instance.

Women with wants that are only attained once they’ve been siphoned through a man’s whims, freedoms and his own career-construction of the world. Women who only become visible once they place themselves into his line of vision; who’ve learned young that in order to be seen, she must provide him with an opportunity to swoop in. He’ll care if caring for means providing protection for her. He’ll care if her request for attention falls into his purview.

The women in Rear Window outnumber the men but they also end up murdered, attacked, and/​or broken-hearted. Having traded in their Edith Head gowns for more sensible trousers, they are now awarded entry into this man’s life. He’s napping mid-day—now with two broken legs—and only once he’s fully asleep, will she reach for her copy of Harper’s Bazaar. Being a woman is an old habit that dies hard.”

A buddhist nun that I photographed a few days ago in Kathmandu, Nepal.

Please support this wonderful country, in a difficult moment. It’s been half a year from the tragic earthquake, but Nepal still needs you.

You can make a donation to one of the many crowdfunding campaigns on the internet or, even better, you can visit this beautiful country.

The Atlas of Beauty is in India.

Each morning she comes from her small village, to Varanasi.