Standing at the pool’s edge, he planted his eyes on the V-shape of my body where my legs met at my hips, where I felt the water drip. I saw his brown irises turn hard and hungry.
Does the time come for everyone when holding it in just won’t do anymore? I kept the story of my abortion to myself until Michael broke up with me two years later.
Editor and author George Hodgman talks about his new memoir, Bettyville, what makes for a good memoir, and returning to his hometown of Paris, Missouri from New York to take care of his aging mother.
Julia was one of those “students” whom you suspect, after maybe fifteen seconds, should actually be teaching the class you are currently (allegedly) teaching.
Her name becomes shorthand for a republic of women and black artists with “no home in this place” to borrow a phrase from Morrison’s Nobel lecture, people who create, reclaim…
The CRDF is made up of several buildings surrounding a central courtyard. There will be nothing dangerous or seedy about the environment; it will feel like an abandoned civic center.
They did not tell us that love was not something you could throw away once finished. That it would remain on us like blackened scars, underneath blouses and in those places only we could see.