A beautiful writing of sexual and gendered resistance 🙂
I walk in a city I walked before… I can see it as it has been before I was, this city which is a huddling-together of houses, hearths, interiors of warmth, shelter from the inhospitality of all sites-not-home.
In these houses, for centuries, in many voices, with many faces, under one form of oppression or another, she toiled to build and hold the city from the inside. As the keeper of a key she was never given, she kindled, re-kindled, and kept burning the fire that lights up the perimeters of an interior which is home, this interior in reference to which the exteriority of the city, of civilisation, of man being man in a world of men could unfold at all.
This home is where men always arrived or departed from, felt safe, was born and fed and raised, hid in the time of war and disaster, arose in love…
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