I often feel like if I ever need to explain life to someone, perhaps if I’m ever to encounter a dead person with amnesia, I will tell them that it is like constantly sprinting head first at a thick brick wall.
In one hundred years, when your house full of worthless plastic crap isn’t worth anything, your grandchildren will be given the rights to your social media accounts, in which they will hold not only your image, but your contents in their hands.
The one with the black and white striped peplum top and buttery jean shorts crossed her hands delicately on top … More
Shaking my head, I walked back. My thirty second jog ahead had not turned up the Stone Elephant that had … More
It was a crime. A serial crime. Committed ritually each morning under midmorning sun’s gaze. Flagrant. But so easy. An … More
Are we there yet? the aunt asks her English major niece who’s selling shoes. She replies, “Almost” the cameraman asks … More
Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the … More
Maya Angelou died today. My immediate reaction was true to my culturally inbred millennial instincts. In a sweaty post-run perusal … More
joy is vintage dresses that fit your chest better than the heart beating with love for the mother friend boyfriend … More
Crawled in to bed to take cover from the thunderstorm of a heaving chest, aching as it tried to contain a … More