You’d think that landing a sweet publishing deal would squash any trace of writer’s block, and you’d be wrong.
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Gil Roth of The Virtual Memories Show talks with Charles Bivona about his evolution on Twitter.
It was several years before I joined her Dominican family, when I found myself in the backseat of a bigot.
“I’m no expert,” she reminded me for the second time in the conversation, “but life used to be about what you did for other people.”
Years before my life without you, we were leaving the supermarket we worked for, heading out to look for drinks, to meet women, when you spotted one staggering to her knees outside the adjacent drug store.
At a lecture, presentation, orientation, whatever, quietly speed tapping notes into a word-processing app on my phone.
It was a simple shot—casual, yet dynamic. The reporter would speak his lines while strolling through Zuccotti Park. But Zuccotti Park was not cooperating.
I walked into the NJ Peace Action annual dinner, a notebook in my hand, my head full of activism.
Books are much more than just the bound pages of a written text. A book is a collective work of art.
Just one more week until President Trump is unleashed on the Earth.