ago.
One was a clothespin from the 1960s. Solid hardwood, round-headed, smoothed by decades of wind and sun. The spring was thick, rusted but unyielding. The other was a clothespin I’d bought last year. Cheap, pale pine, snapped in half at the hinge. The metal spring was thin as a wire, twisted and useless.
I picked them up. The contrast was weightier continue reading …
