I’m reading Cold Enough for Snow as sweat marbles across my face. It’s already 24 degrees at five am on a day in mid-March. The weather hits you in the face in this place, at this time of the year. It’s a thumping, clumping, pounding that drapes your body and sucks at your soul.
Sweating on Feminism
Sweating on Feminism
Sweating on Feminism
I’m reading Cold Enough for Snow as sweat marbles across my face. It’s already 24 degrees at five am on a day in mid-March. The weather hits you in the face in this place, at this time of the year. It’s a thumping, clumping, pounding that drapes your body and sucks at your soul.