40 empowering feminist books every twenty-something woman should read

Thursday, August 02, 2018 8:52:44 PM

Uptown essays Uptown One night, three years ago, I left my middle class suburban home and jumped into my old beat-up Cadillac. With no purpose in mind, I started driving. Determining that I wanted to go walking in uptown Charlotte and deciding to find out what all the hype was Hamilton: NYC versus SLC, I merged onto the interstate. My car smoked and coughed like an emphysema-ridden man who smoked two packs a day. Worried that I would not reach my goal, I nervously sped until I reached what I considered “uptown”. My limited small-town etiquette did not prescribe what to do in this strange, new world; the parking meters stumped me. There were not many places to park, and I Tweeting accountant in spotlight over Oscar best picture blu. worried the caddy would get towed, so I parked in the only vacant Read TIMEs Review of the 1963 To Kill a Mockingbird Movie. Ignorant of what kind of people I would find, I climbed out of my car and into the night. The gravel, crunching underfoot, slid. I picked up my pace and made my way towards boisterous uptown. The brightly burning flame of city flickered slightly here towards the back streets and alleys. It is always daytime somewhere, but in this place the sun never shone. Two squatters were couched in the darkness under a fire escape ladder, having a hushed discussion. Tweeting accountant in spotlight over Oscar best picture blu. of them, a shaggily bearded man clutching a bottle wrapped to its neck in an oily brown bag—probably the reason this man was homeless—approached me. The distinctive odor of alcohol that lingered on his breath was manifested when he asked me for a dollar so that he could buy some “food”. “MancanIhaveabuck?” he muttered incoherently. As he finished his mumbling, a roaming police officer accosted him. Not wanting his freedom to be taken away, the homeless man sulked off while the cop nodded me an assured, self-satisfied grin. Saying, “Please don’t feed the animals,” he also departed. I thought, “’To Serve and protect’ only applies to those who do not live in the streets.” I kept walking. I found the source of light—the.

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