RIP Mary Ellen Mark

http://www.maryellenmark.com/books/titles/ward_81/300B-030-023_ward81_520.html

I once heard a story about two women in a small town in Czechoslovakia. At the end of World War II, as victory drew near and the Germans were forced to flee before the Russian advance, each woman took to the streets in euphoria and attacked the retreating German tanks, yelling abuse and throwing stones. The Germans fired on the first woman and killed her instantly. The second woman, for reasons unknown, was ignored by the fleeing army. Screaming hysterically, she was led away by her compatriots and taken to a mental institution where the doctors finally managed to pacify her.

The woman who had been killed became a hero. Her photograph made the front pages of the newspapers. Her name appeared later in schoolbooks. A street was named after her. The woman who had been ignored spent five years in a mental institution. As far as I know no one ever bothered to photograph her.

Milos Forman

from the forward to Ward 81, a collection of photographs by Mary Ellen Mark published in 1979.  Forman met Mark while filming One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest which was shot on location at the Oregon State Hospital.

 

Obituary for Mary Ellen Mark:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/entertainment/mary-ellen-mark-photographer-of-outcasts-and-hidden-beauty-dies-at-75/2015/05/26/331ece94-03d9-11e5-a428-c984eb077d4e_story.html

 

 

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SONY DSC

 

 

 

 

RIP Ananta Bijoy Dash

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A Few Lines For Taslima Nasreen

By Ananta Bijoy Dash

Translated into English by Debashish Bhattacharya

 

 

 

The wolves and hyenas of the darkness are prowling over the world
Naked swords in hand, their unconcealed carnal desire dripping off from their eyes and mouths.
Intellectual conceit, under the veneer of fake social awareness, is chewing out
Every issue from big bang to human evolution, global vision .
Alexandria to Nalanda being rampaged and raped by them,
The “elders” are breathing in hatred and violence in their pens,
Blood of the innocent dripping off the shameless swords everywhere.

If you violate their fatwa, their red eyes and edicts
You get beheaded in the east west north south wherever you are.
They have bought over all – the arms, muscles, judiciary and the media.
Nevertheless someone or other is lighting the fire somewhere,
The fire of protest, the revolutionary fire which burns off the stinking, old, decomposed beliefs and rituals, “sacred” establishments.
The lighted path travels from Hypatia to Mary, Rokea –
All hail Taslima, red salute to you.

RIP Cynthia Lennon

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There are places I remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I’ve loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more

Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more

In my life I love you more