“There is no greater insult than to have your death ignored.”
The Economist“Nadia, come and read this article out loud to me. Let’s hear what’s happening in the world!”
“Crêpes! Crêpes pour tout le monde aujourd’hui!”
This is the story of how we begin to remember. This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein. Did you hear that line, Nadia? Did you hear it? He is a poet, Paul Simon, a true poet.”
This last time, he had been in the hospital for a month. The ambulance came to take him away on a Saturday. The arrival of an ambulance was so much a part of our lives that no one woke me up to tell me. I stumbled down the stairs for breakfast as usual, half-blind without my glasses, wearing my fuzzy slippers and pajamas.
Nadia Owusu is a Brooklyn-based writer and urban planner. She grew up in Rome, Addis Ababa, Kampala, Dar-es-Salaam, Kumasi, and London. She is a degree candidate at Southern New Hampshire University's Low Residency MFA in Fiction and Nonfiction and is working on essays and stories about coming of age as a citizen of the world. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Huffington Post, Assignment, and the Nonprofit Quarterly.
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My idea of home had changed, so I took the symbolic step of finding a new tailor—marking Philadelphia as a place that now fit me right, too.