Humanity: Raw & Unfiltered
1: The Heroine A funeral is lace, carnations, pinks, and old flesh. For Emma, dressing hurriedly for a grandmother’s send-off, it was going to be a showdown. Emma frowned as she did up pearl buttons on her white blouse. The yellow shirt had been too happy; the pink, too gentle. Read more
I lost my shoes in Ecuador. But I lost Da’uud in the swamp. I remember how his long lashes blinked back dampness the day we were married, his borrowed clothes pressed, his hair too closely trimmed, everything scrubbed till it shone. His parents were quite pleased; my parents were too. Read more