I have a black hole on the left side of my face near my nose. It’s been there almost my whole life. My dermatologist looked at it and gasped.
Billie Best tells the story of meeting an Asian girl on the train and having an unexpected conversation. 26 minutes, one take, unedited.
I’m developing a menopause conspiracy theory because menopause has become the Area 51 of medicine with alien forces sapping women’s hormones.
Billie Best writes about the memory of scent and lusting after the body odor of humans in this time of pandemic isolation.
My search on “great works of literature about menopause” is disappointing. Why can’t I find myself in the literary canon of my time?
Thinking on the grid extrudes new information so it looks a lot like the old information I already think I know.
I was on the phone talking to an old guy and he was telling me how worried he is about what’s going on in the world. He’s 88.