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mama sass

• Disconnected: The death of the telephone

  I remember my first phone. Pale brown. Push-button. It hung on the kitchen wall in the house where I grew up. Eventually its cord became stretched and tangled, the result of oh-so-many attempts to stretch the receiver into a private corner that never could be. That was back when [...]
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• Disconnected: The death of the telephone

  I remember my first phone. Pale brown. Push-button. It hung on the kitchen wall in the house where I grew up. Eventually its cord became stretched and tangled, the result of oh-so-many attempts to stretch the receiver into a private corner that never could be. That was back when [...]
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