@jren777.bsky.social
As I make room for more books, I wonder why I keep collecting them. Then it hit me—much like traveling, books are a journey of their own. The ones I’ve read are like photographs of where I’ve been, while those still unread are a bucket list of adventures yet to come.
February 20, 2025 at 5:30 PM
As I make room for more books, I wonder why I keep collecting them. Then it hit me—much like traveling, books are a journey of their own. The ones I’ve read are like photographs of where I’ve been, while those still unread are a bucket list of adventures yet to come.
www.newyorker.com/magazine/196...
A masterful blend of eloquence and insight—compelling, profound, and breathtakingly beautiful.
A masterful blend of eloquence and insight—compelling, profound, and breathtakingly beautiful.
James Baldwin: Letter from a Region in My Mind
From 1962: “Whatever white people do not know about Negroes reveals, precisely and inexorably, what they do not know about themselves.”
www.newyorker.com
February 14, 2025 at 4:36 PM
www.newyorker.com/magazine/196...
A masterful blend of eloquence and insight—compelling, profound, and breathtakingly beautiful.
A masterful blend of eloquence and insight—compelling, profound, and breathtakingly beautiful.
