My portrait doppleganger is a matronly-looking widow from the 1890s.
I am 49 years old. Seeing that sentence on this screen causes me cognitive dissonance. Just how and when did this happen?
When your childhood bedroom overlooks acres of corn, it stays with you. You can grow up, leave the farm, move to the city and put 31 years between you and the corn fields, but you can't entirely leave them. Corn, it turns out, stays in your blood. Such are my thoughts this morning as I … Continue reading Corny