It’s not the word made flesh we want in writing, in poetry and fiction, but the flesh made word.
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It’s not the word made flesh we want in writing, in poetry and fiction, but the flesh made word.
“Pray for her, and may everyone stop what they’re doing to breathe life into her, since Macabéa for now is adrift in chaos like the door swinging in an infinite wind.”
Clarice Lispector