What a fucking weekend. This is my incredible coworker Adrian and the amazing Miya Bailey who we met this weekend during a photoshoot. My coworkers went up a ladder onto a roof, a couple minutes later they run down and I see a man with a huge gun. I was scared shitless. Once he realized we were artists he invited us up, we realized who he was, and we took photos and chilled. He tells the story above, on his instagram. Everything happens for a reason.

AFRO PUNK illuminated just how beautiful and different, yet connected, we all are. (And in saying beautiful I don’t mean just visibly, although that’s the God honest truth.) With all that has happened in the past year, mirroring what happened so visibly in our parents’ generation, I appreciated this space of free expression, unabashed joy, and air that was ours to breathe in, dance in, taste lollipops in, and gaze. I think I should write a longer reflection piece on my experience. Coming soon ✌🏾️ ▫️▫️▫️ 📷| @aoctaviusw by writtenbyherself


Day 7. Its been a week since Mike Browns passing. Still no justice but today we united in a prayer walk. Hundreds of protesters came out and represented well. Another peaceful march starting from Canfield. 

I personally don’t know how to feel right now. I do know the people of Ferguson are tired and ready for justice. I hope the rest of the world who is watching, reading, or even here protesting with us is ready for better days.