Growing up human is uniquely a matter of social relations rather than biology. What we learn from connections within the family takes the place of instincts that program the behavior of animals; which raises the question, how good are these connections?
Like their personal lives, women's history is fragmented, interrupted; a shadow history of human beings whose existence has been shaped by the efforts and the demands of others.
The Goddamn human race deserves itself, and as far as I'm concerned it can have it.
As long as mixed grills and combination salads are popular, anthologies will undoubtedly continue in favor.