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The first few months

August 8, 2009

The line between known and not known is sheer as muslin, and blows sideways as easily in the mildest breeze. I see shapes on the other side, some fluttering like flags, some solid as anchors. I am counting them, my fingers tapping their number into my cupped palm. I know the number set as threshold. I am paying attention, even when my vision is ever-so-slightly obscured.

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