December 2010
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After I went home, I lay down on my bed, closed my eyes, and listened to myself breathe. I’d never paid attention before, to the rhythms of my breath. It seemed strange to me, that he was sitting there the whole time, listening to something I didn’t even know I was doing. It felt as if he’d overheard my dreams.
T. Greenwood, Undressing the Moon
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After I went home, I lay down on my bed, closed my eyes, and listened to myself breathe. I’d never paid attention before, to the rhythms of my breath. It seemed strange to me, that he was sitting there the whole time, listening to something I didn’t even know I was doing. It felt as if he’d overheard my dreams.
T. Greenwood, Undressing the Moon
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Like my mother, I wasn’t accustomed to sharing the things that were broken in my life.
T. Greenwood, Undressing the Moon
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Like my mother, I wasn’t accustomed to sharing the things that were broken in my life.
T. Greenwood, Undressing the Moon
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I was afraid that to tell would make it real. That articulation was a dangerous thing.
T. Greenwood, Undressing the Moon
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I was afraid that to tell would make it real. That articulation was a dangerous thing.
T. Greenwood, Undressing the Moon
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I hate my father’s cowardice, but I don’t fault him for his lack of valor; I come from a family of cowards. I am not brave either, I never was.
T. Greenwood, Undressing the Moon
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I hate my father’s cowardice, but I don’t fault him for his lack of valor; I come from a family of cowards. I am not brave either, I never was.
T. Greenwood, Undressing the Moon
He lowered his head, and I stomped my feet on the kitchen floor the way I used to when I was little and mad and thought that making noise would force people to listen.
T. Greenwood, Undressing the Moon
He lowered his head, and I stomped my feet on the kitchen floor the way I used to when I was little and mad and thought that making noise would force people to listen.
T. Greenwood, Undressing the Moon
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And I knew then and there that love was a violent thing.
T. Greenwood, Undressing the Moon
And I knew then and there that love was a violent thing.
T. Greenwood, Undressing the Moon
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I looked like my father. He was me. He was my birth and my death, rendered simply in his hands and in his eyes. I could see my future in his face and hear my past in his words. Watching him staring at the empty places where my mother used to be was like staring at both the self I’d already lost and the person I would become. I was grateful, in a strange way, for Roxanne. When Daddy was...
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I looked like my father. He was me. He was my birth and my death, rendered simply in his hands and in his eyes. I could see my future in his face and hear my past in his words. Watching him staring at the empty places where my mother used to be was like staring at both the self I’d already lost and the person I would become. I was grateful, in a strange way, for Roxanne. When Daddy was...