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We were, all of us, ethered
when the window broke. Soon after, the floor
who looks like my father or
his father or an ex or neighbor or
someone I’ve never met at all—
We’re facing an. . .
When you leave the museum
of contemporary art, opening
the doors to midday, you may need
a few minutes to reset context:
the. . .
Two new books reveal the meaning latent in the junk we collect.
A dying mill town and its toxic legacies.
On the bad methodology of corporate diversity and inclusion indices.