About the author
Building
I want to meet the man who twisted the curves into wrought iron fences. Sit me sown with that sandy soul who pulled the big bricks into pyramids, the woman who wove the tapestries in the Cloisters. I want to wear an architect on my sleeve who beats and builds ever so soundly and I can take him out at any moment and ask him questions. Why do men no longer build cathedrals? When I lean...
To a Manager at a Kampala Guest House
Dear Charlotte, You hang up our clothes on the trees to dry after washing each piece by hand. Sometimes I wonder if you sleep, when you serve us papayas and tea in the morning and we ask, "how was your sleep?" and you say, "very short." I've only known a few women like you-- more concerned about making our beds than sleeping in your own. You serve us Novida pin...
