The kind you’re born with, the kind you choose, the kind that teach Catholic school
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Writer’s craft, education, politics
I have a question (many as a matter of fact). I find that asking questions is the first activity of the awakened other. This other — the awakened stranger, the child of Self — is helpless and vulnerable as an infant curled, before the cord’s cut, lying on the curve of the mother’s belly. Once the cord is cut, the first breath (in or out? the question is enormous) having been delivered, the other is seeded, like a grain of sand in an oysterling, waiting for the moment when the flesh becomes aware and begins to create the pearl of wisdom.
I entered John Umstead Hospital (Butner), on, or around the 13th of March, 1975.
Figuring out what you really want, barely making ends meet, looking busy