All the World’s a Stage and Identity is Just Another Costume
The intersection of every type of human in the park is incredible. Name an identity — from the most common to the smallest segment of current society, white cisgender heterosexual male to transgender bisexual black woman — and they will be somewhere in this giant wok on the east side of Chicago on any given night.
There was no thunder, no glowing doorway, no mysterious wind blowing through the apartment, and no choir of angels politely alerting me that physics had submitted its resignation.
The deck simply felt heavier.