Best of 2018: Part Two
This year, we decided to let the writers speak for themselves.
This year, we decided to let the writers speak for themselves.
This year, we decided to let the writers speak for themselves.
The problem is not that progressive folks misidentify problems.
[Untitled] is cathartic—not because it offers any clear-cut wisdom but because it tells personal stories honestly, which might actually be real wisdom.
It wasn’t stated aloud, but the message between the lines was this: You’re the last Meekhof.
“I just need to know if it’s worth hoping,” we say. “Is this guy the One or not?”
On this aðfangadagskvöld, it’s my duty to tell you specifically about the final Yule Lad, who arrives tonight. His name is Kertasníkir, and if you know Icelandic, you’re clutching your candles.
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.
The shine has yet to wear off and the subscription has been completely satisfying.
And Christmas is a holiday of obligation.