Confessions of the Hamam Non-Sisterhood
She flung the plastic bucket in my supine direction. The warm water leapt out, arched through the steaming black room and landed with a slap across my face. I gasped. I lay on my back, sopping wet and stripped down to my panties. I blinked the water from my eyes and stared up at the cement ceiling. There was a …
A Letter to My Thirties
Dear Thirties, You are a centrifugal force to be reckoned with: this, I concede from the outset. My twenties, inaugurated at a Madison bar with a fake ID, a naïve rapture at the eloquence of History PhD students, and nary a headache following quantities of alcohol that would now waylay me for days, have nothing on you. I have felt …
