I thought we might spend this Sunday with Frida and imagine that we are in la Casa Azul and that someone is bringing to the courtyard a plate of bourbon biscuits and a bottle of brandy.
The Ancient Concealer's writing was as fierce and piercing and wry as her canvases.
- “I tried to drown my sorrows but the bastards learned how to swim.”
And then,
- "¿se pueden inventar verbos? quiero decirte uno: yo te cielo, así mis alas se extienden enormes para amarte sin medida... somos de las misma materia, de las mismas ondas...”
Have you read her diaries? The last line, amid sketches, of her final, suicidal entry reads: “I hope the leaving is joyful—and I hope never to return—FRIDA.”
“Diego my love- Remember that once you finish the fresco we will be together forever once and for all, without arguments or anything, only to love one another. Behave yourself and do everything that Emmy Lou tells you. I adore you more than ever. Your girl, Frida (Write me).”