Frida has been with me lately. Wherever I go, she welcomes me. As a book of her letters to Diego Rivera, as a kitchen towel with her self-portrait print, as a key pendant with her eyebrows, as her watermelon painting hung on the kitchen wall of my friend’s apartment, as a picture on a pedestrian’s cotton bag, as a print on the mug behind a store’s vitrage, and now also on my Couchsurfing host’s fridge magnet in Batumi. She is everywhere. She is there for me. She stepped forward as an answer to my call for friendship with the Goddess Ishtar.
Continue reading “Viva La Vida, Belly Aches, and the Need for Love”
