Saturday, September 12, 2020
‘What if there was a disease in Alexandria, she thought, and everybody died but me?
I’d go live at the library, she told herself. The notion was cheering. She saw herself reading by candlelight, shadows flickering on the ceiling above the labyrinth of shelves. She could take a suitcase from home–peanut butter and crackers, a blanket, a change of clothes–and pull together two of the big armchairs in the Reading Room to sleep on…’
― The Little Friend
Thursday, September 10, 2020
Tuesday, September 8, 2020
Monday, September 7, 2020
Summer’s over. The sign has been sitting in my apartment for months, seen by no one but me. Signs want to be seen. It needs me to hold it. When schools start here in a couple weeks, I’d like to be in my spot in front of the Dept. of Education. I don’t know what the sidewalk traffic will be like. And what about the subway to get me there? I’ll be going in rush hour. I’ll have to see. It’s too far to walk. I can’t take cabs five days a week. For seven years I’ve held that sign. I’m going to try.
Sunday, September 6, 2020
The poet and playwright Claudia Rankine talks to Afua Hirsch about power, race and class, and her experience of being a first-generation immigrant living in the US today. I’m going to get her book this week. Here’s a discussion she had in today’s Guardian:
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2020/sep/05/claudia-rankine-by-white-privilege-i-mean-the-ability-to-stay-alive
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