by Karen Yvonne Hamilton
No one ever knows where to start these things. Memoirs. There are so many of them. I just finished reading
Maya Angelou’s, Why The Caged Bird Sings
and was, of course, impressed. I suppose you need to start at the beginning
and just work on individual snapshots of memory and hope the entire thing comes together to form some sort of coherent whole.
Something never started is never finished, is it?