a prelude: “blessed,” meaning washed with blood.
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Description
in which ismatu delivers a free-styled, spoken essay where they realize Grief as a seed blooming their bones. This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit ismatu.substack.com/subscribe
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The strangest part about terminal illness is how often death comes for a peck on the lips and nothing more. A few weeks ago, I flew home to attend my mother's final affairs. Now we sit, smoothies and champagne glasses, watching a movie to spend time together. It's sunny this Tuesday. Here are...
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