…all was well. Well enough. The world still ached with beauty. The birds kept chirping, leaves clattered in a breeze, the late-afternoon sunlight, thick and pale, slanted in from the south.
Posted in bookmaggot, grief, hope, little gorgeous things | Comments Off on bug hollow, by michelle huneven
…she was struck by how private American forces of mercy were straining to offset America’s public agents of cruelty.
Posted in bookmaggot, grief, history, politics | Comments Off on the premonition, by michael lewis
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