Why U.S. history tends to repeat itself — from the Indians to today.
‘I swear, man, we’re screwed, the whole world is done. Over. … This generation, Emily’s, I swear. They’re worse than we were.’
‘His two huskies pawed at an old dead possum, above them the cicadas were singing at full pitch as warm wind blew through the green leaves like hot breath.’
And why people keep telling them.
Xánath Caraza’s ‘Sin preámbulos/Without Preamble.’ Translated by Sandra Kingery and published by Spartan Press
Puerto Rico rises, every day.
I am coming home, Puerto Rico, for the first time. How will I find you? Will you recognize me as one of your own? Am I too late?
Sometimes, in special times and places, art is merely a giant middle finger raised against ugliness.