In Elizabeth Taylor’s White Diamonds, I Find the Women of My Family
For many people, they smell White Diamonds and, instantly, they melt. They remember their mother’s indulgent laugh; the arms that held them.
One Hundred Years of Solitude
National VelvetThe Last Time I Saw Paris
Leave him, that’s Mrs. Hoosen’s husband.
Mishka Hoosen is a writer and researcher from Johannesburg in South Africa. Their work has appeared on the Ploughshares Blog, and in Bare Fiction, Plume, Illuminations, Rolling Stone South Africa, The Missing Slate, and others. They write extensively on perfume, madness, and the body. They are currently working on a novel, "Through Smoke", which will examine perfume as an embodiment of desire and remembrance in the postcolonial city.
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Many times I could have said the same as Gawain, terrified in the face what was to come, “I’m not ready. I’m not ready yet.”
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In my grief over my grandmother’s death, I derived solace from the idea that something could still be done to benefit her, that she hadn’t left us but was just in a different place.
We had no sense of “ecological time,” the cadence of the natural environment. Mostly, I experienced the natural world as lack.