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The box is richly padded and, for one who won’t be stirring, roomy. I should have lived as comfortably, in darkness as conducive to long remembering. This is no way to begin. I am paper and bone in a box under earth as blunt as a clod. My words should be simple as sand. Read the rest of this entry »
All I wanted when he died was to scream. My family restrained me, taking me by the arms near the shoulders, and either slamming me to the wall of the trauma room or forcing my nose into the stink, as if I were responsible, Read the rest of this entry »