Thinking about this, they grow wide-eyed and speak so fast that the windows become flecked with child spittle. How can they have made themselves so ridiculous by dreaming?
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ESSAY | On The Inheritance of Touch – Malaika Kamau
I am an old crone in training. The kind of enigmatic woman who is the subject of neighborhood gossip whispered behind guarded lips. I practice for the role with some late-night pacing. Contemplation has proven to be one of the most ineffective modes of transportation, though.