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Use what you have to create and make ideas understood.

Don’t write like me. Don’t talk like me. I already impersonate enough for people to feed on the echo for days.

The story of our time has a foil as complicated as Israel.

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Fictional Memoirs: She

She moves in her own way. A drift to astray and sometimes near when she needs air. Her feet hurt from walking all day. Her dark brown eyes wonder from the green lake on her left past the thin white and grey leopard print trees onto the rugged path in front and behind her. Though looking “up ahead” she imagines

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