From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Tactile
I gripped my scratchy wool waistcoat as the newsboy screamed about Bromley’s plane plunging from the sky; it seems nothing stays safely grounded anymore. My fingers trembled against the rough, stamped cotton of the Raggedy Andy doll I'd bought for my girl, a small comfort while everything else—even the cost of a simple loaf of bread—has climbed to a staggering $0.11 per loaf. Watching a stylish sheba glide past in her silk stockings, I couldn't help but feel the world was spinning too fast toward tragedy and high prices. It’s hard to find peace when the very fabric of life feels as thin and frayed as a worn-out work shirt.