Sublime

My father was curiosity itself. Whether with a bellman or a prince, he would strike up unexpected conversations. Sometimes, he would hear someone’s accent and tell them he had traveled to their country and had written about it and wanted to hear their story.

Just imagine the many Maryas who have existed, all over the world, their best selves sacrificed to exigency, whose grace suffered under the pressure of being poorly suited to the toil required of them to make a living. (Maybe, like me, you’ve been one of them yourself.)