“…that peculiar zen-like wisdom that must be as accessible to the unborn as to the dead.”
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“…that peculiar zen-like wisdom that must be as accessible to the unborn as to the dead.”
by Yoojin Na
Levy, who cries on escalators, doesn’t hate her children. She doesn’t hate her soon-to-be-ex-husband. Rather, she hates that a woman must extend herself to assume a domestic role and become a stranger to the person she once was.
