Gravity and Waggery: A Review of Bohumil Hrabal’s “All My Cats”
“What are we going to do with all those cats?”
Gravity and Waggery: A Review of Bohumil Hrabal’s “All My Cats” Read More »
“What are we going to do with all those cats?”
Europe Folio
Why Eastern European Women’s Sexual Pleasure Is Their Own Business and Other Arguments for Intersectional Socialism
We were not duped by capitalism and didn’t desire
exploitation, and a lot of us saw Western consumerism as both shallow and wasteful. It’s more because of our poverty and powerlessness than our intelligence that in the end all we got in Eastern Europe was neoliberal capitalism. After all, even American citizens, empowered, enlightened individuals, have been unable to stop its ruthless progress.
We were not duped by capitalism and didn’t desire
exploitation, and a lot of us saw Western consumerism as both shallow and wasteful. It’s more because of our poverty and powerlessness than our intelligence that in the end all we got in Eastern Europe was neoliberal capitalism. After all, even American citizens, empowered, enlightened individuals, have been unable to stop its ruthless progress.
Sacred Service: A Review of “Without Protection” & a Conversation with Gala Mukomolova
Sometimes when language is song-like and rhythmic, it’s because it’s coming from a core part of yourself that’s not interested in façade. It’s an inner layer. Like a hum, a vibrational hum in the throat
Sacred Service: A Review of “Without Protection” & a Conversation with Gala Mukomolova Read More »
Sometimes when language is song-like and rhythmic, it’s because it’s coming from a core part of yourself that’s not interested in façade. It’s an inner layer. Like a hum, a vibrational hum in the throat
Performing Friendship: A Review of “Honey I Killed the Cats”
she stood there, smelling sweetly of sweat, shawarma, lipstick, the several different perfumes she’d quickly sprayed on herself at Sephora, hair spray, and hot love, with its intrinsic note, it so happens, of urine.
Performing Friendship: A Review of “Honey I Killed the Cats” Read More »
she stood there, smelling sweetly of sweat, shawarma, lipstick, the several different perfumes she’d quickly sprayed on herself at Sephora, hair spray, and hot love, with its intrinsic note, it so happens, of urine.
We Are Always Us: The Boundaries of Elena Ferrante
How easy it is to tell the story of myself without Lila: time quiets down and the important facts slide along the thread of the years like suitcases on a conveyor belt at an airport: you pick them up, you put them on the page, and it’s done.
We Are Always Us: The Boundaries of Elena Ferrante Read More »
How easy it is to tell the story of myself without Lila: time quiets down and the important facts slide along the thread of the years like suitcases on a conveyor belt at an airport: you pick them up, you put them on the page, and it’s done.
