The headlights illuminated a spiral of fiery brown, twisting dangerously around the interrogating beam, lacing it in a curving question. I wasn’t used to driving, and catching my own hair lit by the headlights of the car behind me filled me with sudden dread. The road was a coiling, dark ...
I find a strange solipsism in Queer Thought. An approach that’s both isolated and demanding of those who aren’t a part of the queer experience.