You Can’t Make Me Clean
March 30, 2015TW Column by Emily Toth
I don’t believe in an afterlife. I’m not worried I’ll come back as a tampon.
I don’t believe in an afterlife. I’m not worried I’ll come back as a tampon.
If not for my books and the iguana I rescued from a pet shop, I’m not sure how I would have survived.
From a distance it could be a landscape, the vanishing point beyond the table's far edge.
My unquestionably beautiful surroundings, once so freeing, now seem limiting.
Perhaps the rest of the herd can tell the calf is headed to its death.
I'm a dot connected to dots across the earth. Technology can trace the lines we used to just imagine.
There’s nothing like a thirteen-year-old to get a parent raving about the evils of technology.