Saturday, January 18, 2020

Daily Dose

From Essays One, by Lydia Davis


"My mother's was probably the hand I held most often, during certain years of my life, first when my hand was small and hers was larger, and last when she was often lying on her bed and I was sitting beside her, her hand softer and weaker and more crooked than mine."

From Meeting Abraham Lincoln

No comments:

Post a Comment