Listening to Timkat

From the December 2013 Print Edition

I follow her story only in part, like a man looking from a lit room at dark hills, silhouetted against navy skies— his own staring face superimposed by a ghostly glare from the light of the room. At her story’s crux, Timkat lays down her broom and in an overflow of English says: You . . . . Continue Reading »