We use cookies to improve our services and remember your choices for future visits. For more information see our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use.
We use cookies to improve our services and remember your choices for future visits. For more information see our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use.
Mrs. Paradiso had never read any part of the Bible. She did not concentrate on dogma but devotion. Her religion was not a retreat for her mind but a release for her emotions.
By Karlton KelmMarch 1985Mopping the kitchen, finding a stamp collection, blaming Shirley Temple
By Our ReadersFebruary 1985A subway ride, a military prison, a 1950s chain gang
By Our ReadersJanuary 1985Many days Ann took the coat out of the front closet, placed it over her arm and stroked the white fur. She imagined herself standing at the North Pole surrounded by clean white snow as far as the eye could see in all directions, snow sifting from the colorful flickering sky and falling softly around her in the antiseptic cold, falling and collecting smooth and without footprint to the horizon. In the frozen wastes of her imagination, under the aurora borealis of her wounded central nervous system, she could achieve numbness.
By Isaac RodmanDecember 1984Learning the proper name for magic; laughing at each other’s faults; finding meaning daily, providing reasons for waking every dawn
By Our ReadersDecember 1984Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
Subscribe Today