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Wednesday 18 July 2018

When the lights went out | Joseph Ceravolo: In la colonia Ramos Millan, Mexico City, 1960

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DSCF0330 | by Spiros Loukopoulos ( pomis_ )

The lights temporally go out in the Cabinet Room as U.S. President Donald Trump talks about his meeting with Russian President Vladimir Putin, during a meeting with House Republicans at the White House on July 17, 2018 in Washington, DC.

The lights go out in the Cabinet Room while Trump talks about his meeting with Russian President Vladimir Putin and now claims he has "full faith" in US intel agencies. #TrumpPutinSummit Photo @stingray_mark: image via Getty Images News @GettyImagesNews, 17 July 2018

 
The lights went out in the Cabinet Room as Donald Trump spoke about his meeting with Vladimir Putin Photo: Mark Wilson: image via Getty Images @GettyImages, 1:07 PM 17 July 2018


#Wouldnt you know, the @WhiteHouse photo pool had a field day w Trump's 2x negative power failure today. Our favs: from Mark Wilson @gettyimages: a little light in the cuffs.  #would #wouldorwouldnt: image via Reading The Pictures @ReadingThePix, 17 July 2018


#Wouldnt you know, the @WhiteHouse photo pool had a field day w Trump's 2x negative power failure today. Our favs: from @tombrenner @nytimes: what's down is up #would #wouldorwouldnt: image via Reading The Pictures @ReadingThePix, 17 July 2018



2 comments:

Mose23 said...

Those brown small rotten dots always get me.

TC said...

Thanks once again, Duncan. It's the little peaches with brown small rotten dots get me as well, that concluding moment which turns observation into meaning. Joe's stay in Mexico City was brief, only a couple of months - "Gradually I became homesick, smelling the leaves of the northeast, smelling the autumn that wasn't there". The Colonia where he stayed is a maze of dried up canals and small streets within Iztacalco, one of the 16 boroughs into which the massive teeming world city is now divided. Largely impoverished, working class, then in transition to industrial, in the center-east of the Federal District, and the smallest of the city’s boroughs. The poems he wrote there are the poems of an alert, interested, sensitive, vulnerable, wide-eyed young man from Queens experiencing for the first time the actuality of the world. I think he learned a lot and came away with the sort of attitude adjustment that permitted him thenceforward to leap into his own way of writing. Perhaps I'll put up a few more before it's over, insh'allah.