( for i am the first and the last. i am the honored one and the scorned one. i am the whore and the holy one. i am the wife and the virgin. i am the mother and the daughter. i am the members of my mother. i am the barren one and many are her sons. i am she whose wedding is great, and i have not taken a husband. i am the midwife and she who does not bear. i am the solace of my labor pains. i am the bride and the bridegroom, and it is my husband who begot me. i am the mother of my father and the sister of my husband and he is my offspring. i am the slave of him who prepared me. i am the ruler of my offspring. but he is the one who begot me before the time on a birthday. and he is my offspring in due time, and my power is from him. i am the staff of his power in his youth, and he is the rod of my old age. and whatever he wills happens to me. i am the silence that is incomprehensible and the idea whose remembrance is frequent. i am the voice whose sound is manifold and the word whose appearance is multiple. i am the utterance of my name. )

( Read more... )

( Read more... )

( Read more... )

( Read more... )

( Read more... )

Christmas Eve in snowy Ithaca is beautiful in a way that is fairly different to Hasibe's experiences in Boston, and certainly in damp South Carolina winters, but it's not just special because of the starlit, notably less skyscraper-dotted ambiance, either. ( ... )

( Read more... )

( Read more... )

( Firmly private and locked away. )