Threepenny Review Magazine

My grandmother sat in her chair. She said, When I lie down at night I can't rest, my bones push each other. When I wake up in the morning I say to myself, What? Did I sleep? My God I'm still here. I'll be in this world forever. Thus begins a story by award-winning short story writer Grace Paley that ran in an early issue of a Berkeley literary magazine called The Threepenny Review.

My grandmother sat in her chair. She said, When I lie down at night I can't rest, my bones push each other. When I wake up in the morning I say to myself, What? Did I sleep? My God I'm still here. I'll be in this world forever. Thus begins a story by award-winning short story writer Grace Paley that ran in an early issue of a Berkeley literary magazine called The Threepenny Review.

THIS is the end of the story you're reading. It is also the beginning. And yes, that's confusing, because you're expecting this article to unfold in a certain way, following certain norms of language, construction and time. Sorry. This paragraph was written after the ones that follow, the last and first paragraphs were written simultaneously a day before these words were put down, and the entire article was finished days ago.