Status Updates From Down Among the Women

"He is a man without a name," she says. "He is any man, he is interchangeable with other men. All men are the same. So, he can paint. So, because he is a great painter does not mean he is a great man. It was his painting I loved, not him."

I sit on my park bench and cry for all the women in the world.

She shakes him off, as her mother did to her, unforgiving, punishing.

Down here among the women, we do a lot of sleepwalking. The only way to get through some days is to suppose one will presently wake up.

How lovely life is before one catches a glimpse of death.

”who ever heard of a crucified woman? who would bother?”