The Saturday Rumpus Essay: Jefferson St. Apartments
Our perspectives bend and embellish, the run-down domicile is one year shitty and shameful, the next a sacred heaven.
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The Alienation of an Irish Abortion
Was it a dream? A nightmare? I felt like I’d been sold a lie. There was no husband or caring partner, no safe home or solid income. Just me, pregnant and alone, in an abortion clinic with my rapist.