118500
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My tongue kept me from fitting in with the latinos. I understood little Spanish and spoke even less. No one really believed I was Mexican, and they kept me at a distance.
Or maybe I kept them at a distance. Living with
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3330
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He promises me night-time napalm and arsenic-laced locum. He promises me absolution or a shudder of respite. His words draw open my face and he promises me nothing at all. -His voice is seductive as a gold filigree gift-box proffered in long ivory hands.…
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107011
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