The most harrowing allusion in the painting is unavoidable—the train tracks.
After a trial-by-fire year as public school substitute teacher and fly-by-night freelancer, Julia will shed the tribulations of the work-world to embark on a MA in art history and museum studies at Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland, OH. If you are in town, she’ll gladly take you to a local museum. She enjoys walks, leopard print, and good conversation.
Loving another person is simultaneously the simplest and the most complicated thing that we do.
The constant babble of words in my head—all clambering for my attention—was not conducive for entering into Holy Week.
HOW DARE THE SUN SHINE WHEN I FEEL LIKE A PIECE OF TRASH STUCK ON THE UNDERSIDE OF A PARK BENCH THAT HAS BEEN PEED ON BY DOG.
As we receive and give our things away, we perpetuate a legacy of generous exchange.
Because of these human details within the Nativity story, the tiny family huddled in a barn in Bethlehem so long ago feel as close as our own memories.
I’d personify the pigeons that crowd onto the narrowest of ledges on the building across the street, their plumage flashing psychedelic green and pink.
For example, the medieval church declared you could not have sex on Sundays (or Thursdays, Fridays, or Saturdays).
These works are about as subtle as a trainwreck, but they are surprisingly fun, despite their depressingly urgent call to take environmental responsibility.
What has a man from all the toil and striving of heart with which he toils beneath the sun? For all his days are full of sorrow, and his work is a vexation.
In some respects, Lincoln in the Bardo doesn’t really feel like a novel at all (despite the insistent subtitle), but is rather a carefully curated collection of voices that reside in some literary bardo between genres.