Women’s bodies signify so much, both to ourselves and others, that inhabiting them and having ownership over them often feel like two different states of being.
Matthew Gallaway discusses his second novel, #gods, moving from a big publishing house to an indie press, and why it was important to him to depict gay sex in writing.
I stared up at him, at his new muscular legs, his blossoming body, his trunks, his glory, in awe. I waited as long as I could, pretending to turn the two options over in my head, before saying, “Suicide.”
Up close, the beach was disgusting and tragic. A million tiny pieces of plastic were heaped on the shore like confetti from a hundred parades, or like the real sand on the beach threw up.
After the anger came a deep, resigned sadness, as if her cruise were canceled at the last minute. She’s stuck on the shore of her life, watching everyone she loves sail into the distance.
The pressure to prove ourselves can have a distorting effect, causing us to doubt our instincts in favor of following others we perceive to be experts or “genuine.”
Touch is a compelling argument that we should embrace the physical world, genuine human connections, and reject the technology that comes between us and other people.