A Poetics of Dementia by Rosemarie Buikema
One rainy morning in November, I called my mother. “Hi mum, how’re you doing?”“Well, it isn’t much fun to be sitting here in a chicken run all day…
One rainy morning in November, I called my mother. “Hi mum, how’re you doing?”“Well, it isn’t much fun to be sitting here in a chicken run all day…