My outsider status was hard-won. Earned with my own blood.
I've long bought into the idea of artists inspired by pain. But this myth is both dangerous and inaccurate. Honest, authentic creation must stem from a peaceful mind.
"...you must be correct to assume
That I am “just like every other Jew”
Whatever that means…
Since you’re one too "
Elizabeth continues to ponder creativity and her love/hate relationship with it.
When it comes time to act, who will take the first step? Who will not move at all? You know who you are... Or do you?
It’s the perfect weather for some Single Humor.
A poem of correspondence. So many students, so many stories.
What if there's a non-Hasidic version of every Hasid just waiting out there and living their own life?
