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I go to the hospital every day and rub her feet with rose oil and lavender salve.
Her big feet, size twelve at least, loom in my hands, with pale sole and arch,
darker instep and ankle. Her skin, dry from months of chemotherapy, crumbles
"Some purple Birkenstock sandals, very comfortable for my feet." In her closet she
has a pair of red leather hightop Nikes sent by her dyke sister, for the day she
walks out of her sterile isolated room. Meanwhile, in its cool dark we pretend we'
The three of us — all femmes — lean forward and into each other. Our sandaled
right feet extend toward the camera's eye. Our painted toenails gleam through
open toes. The woman to my left says, "I haven't worn a dress in twenty years.
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LibraryThing ReviewUser Review - ehough75 - LibraryThing
Amazing. Loved every aspect of this book. She shows how her thoughts and process have developed and changed over the years with both conversaitons, debates, and encounters with the people she has met ... Read full review
LibraryThing ReviewUser Review - dancingwaves - LibraryThing
An amazing book of vignettes that explore the ideas and intersections of love, sexuality, gender, and identity. A beautiful love letter to her partner, Leslie Feinberg. Read full review