All it takes is a few major news stories, a massive year-long outpouring of women sharing their pain, and a whole three-day documentary for you to see what a raging fuckhead you are!
I don’t know if I made these knuckles for nothing. They came from home.
Haunted, some might call it. I say, At home. The past is here, ripe and palpable, reaching out to us. Hoping we reach back.
One morning, when our tea kettle could no longer whistle, we took our car out to Lanesboro, eyes still sticky with sleep, to an old diner, unfamiliar then, where a man sitting at the counter, face sun-spotted and forgotten, slumped over a cold cup of coffee, his body, seemingly immovable, turned towards us with movement […]
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