Saturday, July 18, 2015

I am the problem, or, A bad case of the Hamlets

Something great has happened; I feel terrible. And this makes so little sense to me, I cannot focus on anything else.

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I am no longer able to tell how wrong I am or how right. Anything could be the case. Disorientation must be the price you pay for possibility.

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In the middle of the night, worn threadbare, I reach into the refrigerator, and wrapping my palm around a big, smooth mango, I fold down on the floor, shaking with relief.

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