“When the sun went down and it was time for us to leave, the tormented little man just settled inside himself and took on the look of the sunflowers in the field as if her were one of them. The women were finished piecing now. “We need to stop and smell the flowers sometimes,” they said. “Now we can do our real quilting, our real art: making this world piece up right.”
— Faith Ringgold’s “The Sunflowers Quilting Bee at Arles” (The French Collection, Part I: #4)
