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But to maintain an unspoken dignity, they said nothing.
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The Red Crescent.
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We wrapped old towels around our faces to keep from itching.
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You were pleased because they up there got a little taste of what it’s like for us down here. It didn’t even the score, not by a long shot, but it gave them a little taste.
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when I was your age, the people in these countries had a revolution,” Gaines said. “It failed. Then they had another one, and another, and on the fifth try, they finally won.”
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an idea had begun to fester—perhaps the longing for safety was itself just another kind of violence—a violence of cowardice, silence, submission. What was safety, anyway, but the sound of a bomb falling on someone else’s home?
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whole pigs smoked whole days and of peaches and pecans and key lime pie.
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