I started Tuesday with an anonymous essay I’d been editing: Performing Grief. It was supposed to be a good day; I wore a twentysix dress with several round colours, and flats that made me feel like I was a ballerina or a butterly. As I read the essay, I asked, how do you grieve? Publicly, for publicity? Publicly, because it’s the right thing to do? etc. I arrived at no answers because I had nothing much to feel \aggrieved about at the time, well except
Toni Morrison: The Gift That Keeps On Giving
Toni Morrison: The Gift That Keeps On Giving
Toni Morrison: The Gift That Keeps On Giving
I started Tuesday with an anonymous essay I’d been editing: Performing Grief. It was supposed to be a good day; I wore a twentysix dress with several round colours, and flats that made me feel like I was a ballerina or a butterly. As I read the essay, I asked, how do you grieve? Publicly, for publicity? Publicly, because it’s the right thing to do? etc. I arrived at no answers because I had nothing much to feel \aggrieved about at the time, well except