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The Day’s Delight: young woman in yellow

A poet whose name I’d never heard of and whose words slid through my memory like birds I couldn’t hold, but which made me gasp and nod and point every now and then.

A young woman in a bright yellow coat with enough sense of self to say, “no thank you, Oprah, I like the one I chose myself.”

A young artist at the beginning of things who belonged in the thick of ritual and institution, who said to me: art belongs, youth belongs, woman belongs– without apology.

And a flawed and biased system that took the very small but still significant step of passing the mic and listening to her bright voice.


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