October 2009
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Irving Penn, dead →
An ideal for living: kicking ass of photographers 70 years younger than himself until the end.
Incidentally, calling Penn a “fashion photographer” is like calling Picasso a “cubist painter.”
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The swimmer
His muscled back surfaced with each stroke — the grass rippling over his back. When he finished his last lap and came up for air, I knelt down in the dirt beside him and he whispered, come work for me. Then he was off again, slipping beneath the topsoil.
— MWMC
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