Sublime

down-to-earth

Return to what matters.

The habits and tastes of his parents, which had been those of austere children of Bethesda’s particular God, had been stripped with the wallpaper and carpets, and nothing remained of them now but Thomas himself. It was all exactly as he wanted it to be. The oak table by the window was burnished with decades of meals and work, and shone on fat turne

Ageing is a privilege, not a predicament.

She had been asleep all afternoon and I was sitting there turning hems because, unbelievably, people were bringing their sewing by, thinking it would give her something to do while she was dying. She wanted me to finish it.

The modern institution of intensive motherhood silences women, contributes to maternal mental illness, and leaves women too worn out to fight. To fight for what? Potentially transformative policy changes, such as proper maternity leave, flexible working hours, better and more affordable childcare. And even if you don’t have any compassion for new m

Only she, Hélène, knew that it was the number of days he had left to live. He’d allotted himself 1,825 as of April 1, 2014. Why 1,825? Hélène didn’t know. Curiously, she’d never done the calculation I did for her that morning: 1,825 days is five years on the button, so he’d been planning to die on April 1, 2019. Too optimistic, since he died on Jan