Silvia Pizarro McCants

Come close, my love. There is no need to rush. The world outside is loud, but here, in this quiet space between us, we can slow time down. You ask of a word that has survived the crushing weight of forgetting, a word that has been worn smooth by the

Come close, my love. There is no need to rush. The world outside is loud, but here, in this quiet space between us, we can slow time down. You ask of a word that has survived the crushing weight of forgetting, a word that has been worn smooth by the

We must gather now in the quiet solitude of the intellect to examine the spirit of a woman who was far more than a casualty of religious conflict. The historical narrative has conveniently boxed Hypatia into the role of a pagan martyr or a secular saint, but these labels are

We must gather now in the quiet solitude of the intellect to examine the spirit of a woman who was far more than a casualty of religious conflict. The historical narrative has conveniently boxed Hypatia into the role of a pagan martyr or a secular saint, but these labels are

My love, I see you standing there in the cold. You shiver, not because the air is chill, but because the weight upon your shoulders has become heavier than your own bones can bear. You are staring at the precipice, looking down at the ruin of your own patience, and

My love, I see you standing there in the cold. You shiver, not because the air is chill, but because the weight upon your shoulders has become heavier than your own bones can bear. You are staring at the precipice, looking down at the ruin of your own patience, and