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The Slum, the Dog and the Millionaire

I have to admit that I speak a lot of English, maybe a little too much. You will not blame me for that. Everything I knew growing up was multicultural: family, school, hometown, and even my heart. English was the bridge, something that unites all of these different components of my life. I once took...
September 8, 2018
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It Drives Us Crazy

I don't know why boys love cars or anything with wheels. Almost all their toys are a sort of miniature speed masters. I am not referring to you that grew up with ready-made toys kids in Japan make in their daddy's garage, the same toys your daddy pay huge sums for. By "boys"  I meant...
July 21, 2018
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“…Writing is my Cowardice!”

I made a confession yesterday but it was not to a priest; it was to 37 pairs of searching eyes, ten cameras and a dozen artificial light sources. That I write because I want to is a lie. These things I bother you with, these things I write... I let them out because they bother...
May 19, 2018
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The Sinner

For three teen-years I was perhaps the ‘Rock’ upon which my father built his church, and the object of his Sunday chastity sermons. My body, he said, was “God’s Temple.” Often, the Devil sends Ada to tempt me with pinches during Choir Practice, but I always overcome, never looking at her face. This evening was...
March 30, 2018
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