Winter 2015
It helped me free myself from a longtime source of unhappiness.
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We would just roll down the old biology road like all the other suckers.
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To see—and to see properly—is the writer’s central responsibility.
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The sense all along has been that there’s some madness in her.
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Insomnia! There is a sickly romance to the affliction—initially.
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I commute to war five days a week in a station wagon the color of an egg.
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Lydda, when she closes her eyes, has traded one war zone for another.
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