On the last day of the trial, I suddenly remember a dream in which a voice told me the meaning of life.
She wanted to penetrate the shells in the way doctors would when performing a procedure on her.
This year, I added a new event: the Journal Burning Bonfire.
I just knew that, as a black woman, if I wanted to write, I needed some credentials.
We were going to meet every Sunday after church service, Christians and sinners alike till we got the job done.
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