Search Results for: Carpets of felt made up
nothing, shuffling in and out of my room, sullen, mute, miserable. a few months after my britney moment, dad came home with a grocery bag full of vhs cassette tapes. he patted the spot on the couch next to him, and told me to pay close attention. i remember how the type flashed across the bottom of
blood. he never gave up, and rarely lost. he teased his way across the ring, nimble, always on the lip of danger. it was alone, in my room, spent, proud, muscles fatigued, my restlessness abating, that i felt steady and content once again. one day, i dug up an old pair of puffy mittens, from canada,...
https://www.thecut.com/2020/01/when-in-riyadh.html