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Without the noise of home I learn
to hear my body’s own sound.
It is like sleeping in a narrow boat,
waters slapping. . .
we are not scaling we are hunters in this drape called body we have / hardened our old selves pricked peeled consumed . . .
When mumblecore makes it to television, I will understand it better
One of the best stories in Africa today is linked to one of the worst stories in America’s past.
Ignore the rich: tax opposition has never been about liberty
Solidarity is the only viable path to the 2020 presidential election