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Bulldog

As I knit my personality back together again, I have to construct an identity for myself as a person to whom these things happened. I was a child prostitute. I was tortured. I had a mad, mad family. Who does that make me now? There is a kind of survivor-script that I can’t follow. I … Continue reading

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At ease

It is evening now. My neighbor’s children who come to study at my house on weekends have gone. I am alone—not for the first time today, but for the rest of the evening. I am sitting in what they call the altar room here in Country X and the rest of the world would call … Continue reading