“I know how to tell grief apart by its taste. This is not the cutting, surprise grief, the kind that has made you nauseous before. It is the sweet, quiet accompaniment.” On Greek Easter — and the night before her PhD exams — Roxanne Krystalli remembers her father.
Deep in space, time is a concept with a nebulous and ill-defined meaning. Far from the clockwork regularity of suns and planets and moons, the seconds drift until they become minutes or hours or days or years or aeons. 2,073 more words