Betye Saar, Picasso, BlackStar
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Summer and the streets are teeming with beautiful young people. In a shop window, I catch my reflection staring at me with contempt. I need a haircut but have no barber to go to. The last one talked too much about his prostate and made me look like the reincarnation of Saddam Hussein. I spot a pretty well-known artist walking towards me. We’ve met and emailed before, but we can’t really be called friends. We exchange side glances and notice each other, but make an unspoken agr
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