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My friend is rushing toward Jasmine. Her scream reverberates in my mind, with a quality of despair that surprises me, as if she knows something I don’t.
By Anais SalibianFebruary 1989When I came to understand that there are mythic patterns in all of our lives, I knew that all of us, often unbeknownst to ourselves, are engaged in a drama of soul which we were told was reserved for gods, heroes, and saints.
By Deena MetzgerJanuary 1988Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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