As I wait for the bell, the tape deck (you heard right) is playing one of my mom’s old The Who tapes: Who are you? Who, who, who who. I’m avoiding everyone. I don’t want to hear the rumors. The snide remarks. I now know why I have a hundred Facebook notifications. Someone impersonated me and post...
He rowed his small boat across the surface of Lake Nasser and regarded two somber men who hauled in a net. Droplets of water scattered from its thin mesh as they took it in; their skiff traced the invisible line that still lay submerged. The Temple of Isis’s six pylons cli...