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Blown away

I’m never getting over it. I’m never going to heal. The number of family members who supported the evil president and the way we shied away from talking about it. For me, it was like endless, internal bleeding. I kept loving them and I hated them for it. I have so much fucking white privilege […]

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The Memory in Memoir

Why isn’t the ambient sound of each echoing soul okay on its own? The answer is—it absolutely is—but it gets less interesting unless the meaning of the sound is coordinated and organized into a “song”—a coherent narrative of art, creativity harnessed, into something the rest of us can absorb.

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