I remember the first time I stepped into the female compartment in the metro, I knew this marked a significant difference in the commute experience of women.
While I was diagnosing myself and the society out there, I saw my father.
Smoother violence fills our hearts like charming splinters. The irony is I am the first of my women
It is crucial to include a gender perspective in transportation infrastructure. It is a world built by men for men
Baldwin was sitting right beside, smoking, killing time, thinking of love and loneliness, friendships and misfortunes. Of Martin and Malcolm.
I was 18. The power station over the Brahmaputra failed sometime that evening, so the lights went out. It was so hot and humid, my nerves gave up on feeling it after a point. After being with my friends by the river till half past ten, coming back home, I felt so empty that a certain rage filled me. I hated myself for going along with laughter that was so banal in those moments it made my lips ache just to keep them apart. I hated the city. Everything seemed without substance. That was the night in June when I came to know Llewyn.
The movement after Mahsa’s death had forced Iran’s morality police off the streets until recently.
In exchange for the presidential suites at the Ritz and so on, the men holding our city keys have already opened our skies to all that may come.
I remember the first time I stepped into the female compartment in the metro, I knew this marked a significant difference in the commute experience of women.
While I was diagnosing myself and the society out there, I saw my father.
Smoother violence fills our hearts like charming splinters. The irony is I am the first of my women
It is crucial to include a gender perspective in transportation infrastructure. It is a world built by men for men
Baldwin was sitting right beside, smoking, killing time, thinking of love and loneliness, friendships and misfortunes. Of Martin and Malcolm.
I was 18. The power station over the Brahmaputra failed sometime that evening, so the lights went out. It was so hot and humid, my nerves gave up on feeling it after a point. After being with my friends by the river till half past ten, coming back home, I felt so empty that a certain rage filled me. I hated myself for going along with laughter that was so banal in those moments it made my lips ache just to keep them apart. I hated the city. Everything seemed without substance. That was the night in June when I came to know Llewyn.
The movement after Mahsa’s death had forced Iran’s morality police off the streets until recently.
In exchange for the presidential suites at the Ritz and so on, the men holding our city keys have already opened our skies to all that may come.
This was a conversation between two friends.A conversation inspired by Virginia Woolf, who passed away on March 28, 1941
“How tragic it would be if you were wasted”, made me smile in a melancholic way. I know moments when “unnecessary things are our only necessities”. And I’ve not been hesitant to give “rebellion its fascination” and “disobedience its charm.”
