Death is Love

At the start of the pandemic, we’d go walking around the neighborhood in the evenings. When we got a dog that summer, we’d take him for walks through the streets, past houses with people we didn’t know. We’d take different paths on our walks, and one of the paths we took would carry us down a hill past a white home that sat on the right. I always thought the house was cute, and I always wondered who lived there. A few months later, I’d find out whose house it was.

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Matthew Teutsch

Here, you will find reflections on African American, American, and Southern Literature, American popular culture and politics, and pedagogy.