“ I didn’t spend as many hours as she did, for example in the corridors of Harlem Hospital; wasn’t surrounded, as she was, by the stink of blood, the rattle of expiring life; the cold, brutal high-pitched siren of our indifference: On Saturday nights, they pick up a torso here, some legs there, over yonder,Continue reading “RKS Literature: Working in a Harlem Hospital (James Baldwin)”
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