Waiting until dusk to learn the piano
Acrylic, water pastel, pencil
14x15″ panel
KAZLAND - 2018
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Waiting until dusk to learn the piano
Acrylic, water pastel, pencil
14x15″ panel
KAZLAND - 2018

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Kim couldn’t help staring at the photos plastered all around her house.
She looked at her perfect family, her perfect cheating husband. All she could think of since Karim had left her was how none of it was real. All the photos she posted on simstagram, all the comments claiming they wished they had her life. They had no idea what her life was. They saw photos, moments in time, mostly created by Kim, directing her family to look happier, stand up straighter.
She remembered how she had to beg Karim to take that photo with her, she must of taken a hundred photos that night, he looked miserable in all of them, only one was good enough to post. She felt like an impostor in her own life. All of it edited. None of it real. She couldn’t help feeling like she had faked her entire life.
Judith Linhares Dig, 2017
“In the high desert, where I was raised by Amazons, the days were long and the nights were longer, alas, Cinderella had left twenty years before my arrival. I was borne to a red headed body builder: whose sister was a blond disk jockey, a spinner of fast and loud music. My mother’s mother could not change a tire, but often struck out on her own driven by a dark longing to visit the children from her first marriage. This tribe of women thought it was important to drive a car, ride an unbridled horse, swim in the wild sea, carry a heavy load, earn your own money, make a fine bowl of porridge and know where the fuse box is. This is a true story.”
– Judith Linhares, 2017
Judith Linhares The Way She Goes To Town opens January 12 at Various Small Fires
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She goes to the river to think. She stays because the river thinks back. तवायफ़ की नदी — 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗥𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝗛𝗲𝗿 𝗢𝘄𝗻 𝗠𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶s a story about a woman who has spent twenty years trying to be the one who plays, only to discover, on a quiet October ghat in Lucknow, that she was always the flute. Zara Mahmood is forty-one. A painter of serious reputation. A woman who left a marriage that was comfortable and quietly suffocating, the way certain beautiful rooms can be. She comes to Lucknow for a painting series. She ends up at the Gomti ... not the Ganges. What unfolds is not plot in the conventional sense. It is something quieter and more devastating ... a woman reading a Sanskrit verse through a Sufi lens and recognising, in the space between one breath and the next, the shape of her own life. The flute is hollow. That is not its tragedy. That is its entire qualification. Zara has spent four decades being told that fullness was the point. Fill the role. Fill the silence. Fill the house. The river disagrees. So does this story. 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗭𝗮𝗿𝗮. 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗚𝗼𝗺𝘁𝗶. 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻 who has ever sat very still at the edge of something vast and felt, for the first time in a long time, exactly the right size. #SufiWomanhood #ModernMystic #storytelling #VanshidhareVibhushite #Sufidiaries
And somewhere, even now, Meeraaz walks— not because she must, but because her steps are prayers, and her silence, a song
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There were no grand declarations, no polished PR campaigns—just a group of ordinary people...
In the heart of Tiruppur, a town known for its vibrant textile industry, Ananya Textiles buzzed with the rhythm of stitching machines. The factory wasn’t large, but it had life—rows of fabric rolls stacked against walls, the hum of workers’ chatter, and the faint, comforting scent of freshly spun cotton. For years, this mid-sized company had built its name on quality exports. But now, it stood at…
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