Category: Art

  • written by: évah myles I think back fondly on Sundays spent at my grandmother’s, cicadas singing, smoke bouncing off my garments, and sugar hot off my breath. We’d sit in a panelled room, her wooden rocking chair creaking, and my stool right beside her bodice. We sat, our laughter filling the room, beads spilling onto…

    The Historical Significance of Southern Black Gothicism

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