The Age of Ephemerality
Travel’s true luxury is the name of the destination. On the ferry from Dakar to the Île de Gorée, the cold was sudden and oceanic, but I could at least pretend I knew where I was headed.
My son, Elijah, . . .
Brick, a literary journal
Brick
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Each poet will write / their own hell. In mine, like yours, / I’ll be condemned to beauty. — Yusuf Saadi