The Rumpus Sunday Book Review Supplement
It’s Sunday again, which means that my Grandmother is pacing impatiently somewhere beyond the grave, worrying about the fate of my immortal soul.
The Daily Rumpus
Get Overly Personal Emails
From Stephen Elliott
It’s Sunday again, which means that my Grandmother is pacing impatiently somewhere beyond the grave, worrying about the fate of my immortal soul.
There are bodies, and there are words. The bodies shift sides and see their components replaced; they look in mirrors and see themselves made horrific, the mechanical overtaking the organic, and they ask themselves whether they can still feel, still love.