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Sit here and wait and don’t move. I’m tired of telling you. Good, now stop squirming. Good, and stop whimpering. I need a moment’s peace. Are those your feet on the furniture? What do we say about that? Good, there’s hope for you. Read the rest of this entry »
I’m not ready to leave the box. The times I’ve tried were disasters. I thought I was the lucky one with a place of my own, raised as I was, hugged by walls, but my sisters had an easier time leaving home. I wonder now what living this way has prepared me for. Read the rest of this entry »
Rumors of my death are only slightly exaggerated, son. I’m so close to dying I taste ashes. There’s little time for me to atone for a lifetime of neglect—of you, I mean; I didn’t neglect much—but, no matter, this should do it. It’s more than a will; it’s your life from here forward. Read the rest of this entry »
It’s understood the truth can not be told. At best we see what passes by the peephole, a monocled distortion barely glimpsed through a fog of curved glass, apprehended but incommunicable. Read the rest of this entry »
My stupid sister says she wants to be a Sudanese baby in Darfur. Mommy says when we find her, she’ll wish she was a motherless African orphan. It’s just emotion talking; I’m just emotional too. Read the rest of this entry »
When my child was born healthy, I didn’t ask “why me?” I cherished her. A hundred days I cuddled her, produced the milk, and she woke up alive. Read the rest of this entry »