“Those days madrassa meant a room above the café. No chairs. Laughter and conspiracy. Sizzled fat to perfume the conversation of men too long in the tooth for niceties. They had no indoor voices. We would impersonate the shoulder pop of the Indian Ocean.”
“What does it mean to pursue futures that leave the rest of us behind?''
On Black Panther's dazzling and equally frustrating power.
Chapbook review in The Journal.