Shopping at Target for school supplies takes us into the arms of August, summer’s last great hump. I smell the Ticonderoga pencil shavings already...
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I am cut off from myself. A dividing line runs through me. If you are looking for me, here I am– and here I am not. Since 2005, when the cord was cut (first temporarily, then permanently), I shut a door. I wedged it shut. I went out for a walk in winter and...
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