The cradle’s sturdiness lied, the breasts with their warm milk lied, the soothing hand on the forehead lied and the colorful ball, and the yielding bread lied. If they promised us a party with cake and joys and garlands, what …

Generational Read more »

Straight into the mirror you pull off your shirt, cover your hand with a white glove, and with an easy looking motion, touch your breast. You feel what you already knew: A rumble of Roman Colosseum, lions, slaves, and the …

Assumption Read more »