My grandmother had a string of Basra pearls that felt inseparable from her. When I picture her, I almost always see the strand at her neck,...
“There’s something else.” I’m staring at my therist’s grainy face on the ltop screen, my own bathed in the pink glow of my bedroom lamp. She...
But girls around the world brought up by pink iPods and high-saturation computer games refuse to accept this dull, grey version of technology. “The girls are...
