Actor Ocean Vuong HD Instagram Photos and Wallpapers July 2024

UPDATE ON TEXAS BOOK BAN: Thank you so much for the outpouring of love and support after the Conroe ISD book ban last month, a ban that actually began in 2023 (as reported by a nonprofit tracking book bans—slide 2). I have been informed by so many community members fighting this fight (some for years now) on the ground and the situation is even grimmer than I imagined. There are concerted, conservative movements across the country to take over local school boards and control the material folks have access to. It is savvy, well organized, funded, and often using loopholes and euphemisms like “circulation” or “logistical” issues to effectively ban books without repercussions or resistance. But the young people on the ground are paying attention and keeping their communities accountable. My incredible publisher @penguinpress has donated copies of my novel to @thewoodlandspride , who will distribute them to anyone in the Conroe area who wants one. Copies will also be available at the nearby LGBTQ youth org, There’s A room at Our Table. I hope the donation of these books to Woodlands Pride’s brand new library (which showcases many other banned books) will be seen for what it is: not just an act of corrective survival—but as a celebration of who we are, what we stand for, and how we choose to heal and hold one another. Special thanks to @cameronjsamuels and @studentsengagedtx for leading this fight long before my book was banned. Ever grateful for your courage. 🌱✨

UPDATE ON TEXAS BOOK BAN: Thank you so much for the outpouring of love and support after the Conroe ISD book ban last month, a ban that actually began in 2023 (as reported by a nonprofit tracking book bans—slide 2). I have been informed by so many community members fighting this fight (some for years now) on the ground and the situation is even grimmer than I imagined. There are concerted, conservative movements across the country to take over local school boards and control the material folks have access to. It is savvy, well organized, funded, and often using loopholes and euphemisms like “circulation” or “logistical” issues to effectively ban books without repercussions or resistance. But the young people on the ground are paying attention and keeping their communities accountable. My incredible publisher @penguinpress has donated copies of my novel to @thewoodlandspride , who will distribute them to anyone in the Conroe area who wants one. Copies will also be available at the nearby LGBTQ youth org, There’s A room at Our Table. I hope the donation of these books to Woodlands Pride’s brand new library (which showcases many other banned books) will be seen for what it is: not just an act of corrective survival—but as a celebration of who we are, what we stand for, and how we choose to heal and hold one another. Special thanks to @cameronjsamuels and @studentsengagedtx for leading this fight long before my book was banned. Ever grateful for your courage. 🌱✨

UPDATE ON TEXAS BOOK BAN: Thank you so much for the outpouring of love and support after the Conroe ISD book ban last month, a ban that actually began in 2023 (as reported by a nonprofit tracking book bans—slide 2). I have been informed by so many community members fighting this fight (some for years now) on the ground and the situation is even grimmer than I imagined. There are concerted, conservative movements across the country to take over local school boards and control the material folks have access to. It is savvy, well organized, funded, and often using loopholes and euphemisms like “circulation” or “logistical” issues to effectively ban books without repercussions or resistance. But the young people on the ground are paying attention and keeping their communities accountable. My incredible publisher @penguinpress has donated copies of my novel to @thewoodlandspride , who will distribute them to anyone in the Conroe area who wants one. Copies will also be available at the nearby LGBTQ youth org, There’s A room at Our Table. I hope the donation of these books to Woodlands Pride’s brand new library (which showcases many other banned books) will be seen for what it is: not just an act of corrective survival—but as a celebration of who we are, what we stand for, and how we choose to heal and hold one another. Special thanks to @cameronjsamuels and @studentsengagedtx for leading this fight long before my book was banned. Ever grateful for your courage. 🌱✨

UPDATE ON TEXAS BOOK BAN: Thank you so much for the outpouring of love and support after the Conroe ISD book ban last month, a ban that actually began in 2023 (as reported by a nonprofit tracking book bans—slide 2). I have been informed by so many community members fighting this fight (some for years now) on the ground and the situation is even grimmer than I imagined. There are concerted, conservative movements across the country to take over local school boards and control the material folks have access to. It is savvy, well organized, funded, and often using loopholes and euphemisms like “circulation” or “logistical” issues to effectively ban books without repercussions or resistance. But the young people on the ground are paying attention and keeping their communities accountable. My incredible publisher @penguinpress has donated copies of my novel to @thewoodlandspride , who will distribute them to anyone in the Conroe area who wants one. Copies will also be available at the nearby LGBTQ youth org, There’s A room at Our Table. I hope the donation of these books to Woodlands Pride’s brand new library (which showcases many other banned books) will be seen for what it is: not just an act of corrective survival—but as a celebration of who we are, what we stand for, and how we choose to heal and hold one another. Special thanks to @cameronjsamuels and @studentsengagedtx for leading this fight long before my book was banned. Ever grateful for your courage. 🌱✨

UPDATE ON TEXAS BOOK BAN: Thank you so much for the outpouring of love and support after the Conroe ISD book ban last month, a ban that actually began in 2023 (as reported by a nonprofit tracking book bans—slide 2). I have been informed by so many community members fighting this fight (some for years now) on the ground and the situation is even grimmer than I imagined. There are concerted, conservative movements across the country to take over local school boards and control the material folks have access to. It is savvy, well organized, funded, and often using loopholes and euphemisms like “circulation” or “logistical” issues to effectively ban books without repercussions or resistance. But the young people on the ground are paying attention and keeping their communities accountable. My incredible publisher @penguinpress has donated copies of my novel to @thewoodlandspride , who will distribute them to anyone in the Conroe area who wants one. Copies will also be available at the nearby LGBTQ youth org, There’s A room at Our Table. I hope the donation of these books to Woodlands Pride’s brand new library (which showcases many other banned books) will be seen for what it is: not just an act of corrective survival—but as a celebration of who we are, what we stand for, and how we choose to heal and hold one another. Special thanks to @cameronjsamuels and @studentsengagedtx for leading this fight long before my book was banned. Ever grateful for your courage. 🌱✨

UPDATE ON TEXAS BOOK BAN: Thank you so much for the outpouring of love and support after the Conroe ISD book ban last month, a ban that actually began in 2023 (as reported by a nonprofit tracking book bans—slide 2). I have been informed by so many community members fighting this fight (some for years now) on the ground and the situation is even grimmer than I imagined. There are concerted, conservative movements across the country to take over local school boards and control the material folks have access to. It is savvy, well organized, funded, and often using loopholes and euphemisms like “circulation” or “logistical” issues to effectively ban books without repercussions or resistance. But the young people on the ground are paying attention and keeping their communities accountable. My incredible publisher @penguinpress has donated copies of my novel to @thewoodlandspride , who will distribute them to anyone in the Conroe area who wants one. Copies will also be available at the nearby LGBTQ youth org, There’s A room at Our Table. I hope the donation of these books to Woodlands Pride’s brand new library (which showcases many other banned books) will be seen for what it is: not just an act of corrective survival—but as a celebration of who we are, what we stand for, and how we choose to heal and hold one another. Special thanks to @cameronjsamuels and @studentsengagedtx for leading this fight long before my book was banned. Ever grateful for your courage. 🌱✨

overjoyed to finally share this project—a photo essay 15 years in the making—now featured in the latest issue of @cultured_mag On a sweltering July day in 2009, I came home from college to photograph my mother and her coworkers during their shift at my mother’s nail salon. I intended this session to be the first of many, hoping to document them through the seasons. But three months later, with the recession in full swing, my mother declared bankruptcy and sold her salon. The place that sustained us for over two decades, from which my brother and I were raised, where we worked answering the phones, evaporated overnight. The photos I took that one fateful day would be the only ones I have of that place. 15 years later, perhaps as a cumbersome way of grieving, I spent a week in July photographing my brother, who moved in with me after our mother died. What began as a study of a place, the small but mighty people who live, labor, and lose there, became an exercise in looking at the only thing left of that place: my little brother, Nicky. I suppose some projects change the way some desires change through the years, not by deliberate searching, but by discovering a more-ness, a dynamism, in what remains. In this case, the person bound to us by blood. A deep bow to @cultured_mag for featuring a selection from this ongoing project, along with an original essay on photography, memory, the vexed ethics of seeing, and which bodies the archive holds—and which it erases. (Link in bio) Special thanks to @cigharvey , @anmynx , @tommykha , @maruteppei , @pierce_sapper , @nangoldinstudio , and @romanspataro , for your kind guidance and encouragement in my image work, which culminated in this being in the world.💕

overjoyed to finally share this project—a photo essay 15 years in the making—now featured in the latest issue of @cultured_mag On a sweltering July day in 2009, I came home from college to photograph my mother and her coworkers during their shift at my mother’s nail salon. I intended this session to be the first of many, hoping to document them through the seasons. But three months later, with the recession in full swing, my mother declared bankruptcy and sold her salon. The place that sustained us for over two decades, from which my brother and I were raised, where we worked answering the phones, evaporated overnight. The photos I took that one fateful day would be the only ones I have of that place. 15 years later, perhaps as a cumbersome way of grieving, I spent a week in July photographing my brother, who moved in with me after our mother died. What began as a study of a place, the small but mighty people who live, labor, and lose there, became an exercise in looking at the only thing left of that place: my little brother, Nicky. I suppose some projects change the way some desires change through the years, not by deliberate searching, but by discovering a more-ness, a dynamism, in what remains. In this case, the person bound to us by blood. A deep bow to @cultured_mag for featuring a selection from this ongoing project, along with an original essay on photography, memory, the vexed ethics of seeing, and which bodies the archive holds—and which it erases. (Link in bio) Special thanks to @cigharvey , @anmynx , @tommykha , @maruteppei , @pierce_sapper , @nangoldinstudio , and @romanspataro , for your kind guidance and encouragement in my image work, which culminated in this being in the world.💕

overjoyed to finally share this project—a photo essay 15 years in the making—now featured in the latest issue of @cultured_mag On a sweltering July day in 2009, I came home from college to photograph my mother and her coworkers during their shift at my mother’s nail salon. I intended this session to be the first of many, hoping to document them through the seasons. But three months later, with the recession in full swing, my mother declared bankruptcy and sold her salon. The place that sustained us for over two decades, from which my brother and I were raised, where we worked answering the phones, evaporated overnight. The photos I took that one fateful day would be the only ones I have of that place. 15 years later, perhaps as a cumbersome way of grieving, I spent a week in July photographing my brother, who moved in with me after our mother died. What began as a study of a place, the small but mighty people who live, labor, and lose there, became an exercise in looking at the only thing left of that place: my little brother, Nicky. I suppose some projects change the way some desires change through the years, not by deliberate searching, but by discovering a more-ness, a dynamism, in what remains. In this case, the person bound to us by blood. A deep bow to @cultured_mag for featuring a selection from this ongoing project, along with an original essay on photography, memory, the vexed ethics of seeing, and which bodies the archive holds—and which it erases. (Link in bio) Special thanks to @cigharvey , @anmynx , @tommykha , @maruteppei , @pierce_sapper , @nangoldinstudio , and @romanspataro , for your kind guidance and encouragement in my image work, which culminated in this being in the world.💕

overjoyed to finally share this project—a photo essay 15 years in the making—now featured in the latest issue of @cultured_mag On a sweltering July day in 2009, I came home from college to photograph my mother and her coworkers during their shift at my mother’s nail salon. I intended this session to be the first of many, hoping to document them through the seasons. But three months later, with the recession in full swing, my mother declared bankruptcy and sold her salon. The place that sustained us for over two decades, from which my brother and I were raised, where we worked answering the phones, evaporated overnight. The photos I took that one fateful day would be the only ones I have of that place. 15 years later, perhaps as a cumbersome way of grieving, I spent a week in July photographing my brother, who moved in with me after our mother died. What began as a study of a place, the small but mighty people who live, labor, and lose there, became an exercise in looking at the only thing left of that place: my little brother, Nicky. I suppose some projects change the way some desires change through the years, not by deliberate searching, but by discovering a more-ness, a dynamism, in what remains. In this case, the person bound to us by blood. A deep bow to @cultured_mag for featuring a selection from this ongoing project, along with an original essay on photography, memory, the vexed ethics of seeing, and which bodies the archive holds—and which it erases. (Link in bio) Special thanks to @cigharvey , @anmynx , @tommykha , @maruteppei , @pierce_sapper , @nangoldinstudio , and @romanspataro , for your kind guidance and encouragement in my image work, which culminated in this being in the world.💕

overjoyed to finally share this project—a photo essay 15 years in the making—now featured in the latest issue of @cultured_mag On a sweltering July day in 2009, I came home from college to photograph my mother and her coworkers during their shift at my mother’s nail salon. I intended this session to be the first of many, hoping to document them through the seasons. But three months later, with the recession in full swing, my mother declared bankruptcy and sold her salon. The place that sustained us for over two decades, from which my brother and I were raised, where we worked answering the phones, evaporated overnight. The photos I took that one fateful day would be the only ones I have of that place. 15 years later, perhaps as a cumbersome way of grieving, I spent a week in July photographing my brother, who moved in with me after our mother died. What began as a study of a place, the small but mighty people who live, labor, and lose there, became an exercise in looking at the only thing left of that place: my little brother, Nicky. I suppose some projects change the way some desires change through the years, not by deliberate searching, but by discovering a more-ness, a dynamism, in what remains. In this case, the person bound to us by blood. A deep bow to @cultured_mag for featuring a selection from this ongoing project, along with an original essay on photography, memory, the vexed ethics of seeing, and which bodies the archive holds—and which it erases. (Link in bio) Special thanks to @cigharvey , @anmynx , @tommykha , @maruteppei , @pierce_sapper , @nangoldinstudio , and @romanspataro , for your kind guidance and encouragement in my image work, which culminated in this being in the world.💕

overjoyed to finally share this project—a photo essay 15 years in the making—now featured in the latest issue of @cultured_mag On a sweltering July day in 2009, I came home from college to photograph my mother and her coworkers during their shift at my mother’s nail salon. I intended this session to be the first of many, hoping to document them through the seasons. But three months later, with the recession in full swing, my mother declared bankruptcy and sold her salon. The place that sustained us for over two decades, from which my brother and I were raised, where we worked answering the phones, evaporated overnight. The photos I took that one fateful day would be the only ones I have of that place. 15 years later, perhaps as a cumbersome way of grieving, I spent a week in July photographing my brother, who moved in with me after our mother died. What began as a study of a place, the small but mighty people who live, labor, and lose there, became an exercise in looking at the only thing left of that place: my little brother, Nicky. I suppose some projects change the way some desires change through the years, not by deliberate searching, but by discovering a more-ness, a dynamism, in what remains. In this case, the person bound to us by blood. A deep bow to @cultured_mag for featuring a selection from this ongoing project, along with an original essay on photography, memory, the vexed ethics of seeing, and which bodies the archive holds—and which it erases. (Link in bio) Special thanks to @cigharvey , @anmynx , @tommykha , @maruteppei , @pierce_sapper , @nangoldinstudio , and @romanspataro , for your kind guidance and encouragement in my image work, which culminated in this being in the world.💕

overjoyed to finally share this project—a photo essay 15 years in the making—now featured in the latest issue of @cultured_mag On a sweltering July day in 2009, I came home from college to photograph my mother and her coworkers during their shift at my mother’s nail salon. I intended this session to be the first of many, hoping to document them through the seasons. But three months later, with the recession in full swing, my mother declared bankruptcy and sold her salon. The place that sustained us for over two decades, from which my brother and I were raised, where we worked answering the phones, evaporated overnight. The photos I took that one fateful day would be the only ones I have of that place. 15 years later, perhaps as a cumbersome way of grieving, I spent a week in July photographing my brother, who moved in with me after our mother died. What began as a study of a place, the small but mighty people who live, labor, and lose there, became an exercise in looking at the only thing left of that place: my little brother, Nicky. I suppose some projects change the way some desires change through the years, not by deliberate searching, but by discovering a more-ness, a dynamism, in what remains. In this case, the person bound to us by blood. A deep bow to @cultured_mag for featuring a selection from this ongoing project, along with an original essay on photography, memory, the vexed ethics of seeing, and which bodies the archive holds—and which it erases. (Link in bio) Special thanks to @cigharvey , @anmynx , @tommykha , @maruteppei , @pierce_sapper , @nangoldinstudio , and @romanspataro , for your kind guidance and encouragement in my image work, which culminated in this being in the world.💕

some shots from the local high school graduation 🌱

some shots from the local high school graduation 🌱

some shots from the local high school graduation 🌱