The shards of blanket comfort are all that remain—what framing work this is, what demeaning work this has become—begging like the hen baking bread. A subaltern on the verge of […]
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The Metaworker Literary Magazine
Where great stories are forged
The shards of blanket comfort are all that remain—what framing work this is, what demeaning work this has become—begging like the hen baking bread. A subaltern on the verge of […]
Read more