“My grief had no beginning or end.
I could not grasp its edges, could not comprehend its shape.
And so, it swallowed me whole.
Still, the traitorous world carried on, and I was expected to do the same. For slaves were not permitted to mourn. There was no space for our pain.”
I’m sobbing, I’m in love with Rosie Hewletts writing
— Mar 25, 2026 05:49AM
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