I can’t sleep. It’s late and my sheets beckon but I can’t go to bed until I write this down.

Sometime in the late 80’s, when I was about 10 or 11, I walked down the street from my place to visit my grandma who lived a block away. White printed top with blue flowers dotting it all over; that’s what I was wearing- yes, I remember the exact colour. Continue reading “We are not objects, Mr. Trump” →