Paula W. Millet,  Author

I draw on eyeliner, trying to fake the look of lashes. Next, I tackle the eyebrows. With my bald head, I remind myself of an ancient Egyptian pharaoh.  I wish I could say that pleases me, but truth be told I find it rather unsettling. Let’s face it: nobody is building...

To be in remission means to be given another chance, like Lazarus. Indeed it feels much like the hand of God Himself has reached out to touch my sick body and shattered spirit, raising me to a newness of life.

And in a sense, it truly has been a baptism by the fire of p...

My stomach growls as I look over the menu. Burger and fries? Catfish and hushpuppies? Or maybe a salad with bacon and fried chicken and lots of blue cheese dressing? The possibilities are endless, but also, I am told, poison. I wonder if I am willing to die for a slab...

If you look at satellite images of earth, you see the continents, large land masses with no borders, nothing stopping them until they touch the sea. There isn’t a real division of states in America or markers between countries in Europe. Those exist only on maps, or wh...