Maybe it’s just me, but I cannot celebrate someone’s death. Even if he or she hated me. Even if he or she wanted me dead. Even if in the moment of struggle, I had to destroy him or her. I still can’t celebrate. Because behind every human being is a mother, sister, brother, lover, wife,…
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It’s funny, I don’t know how to start this blog post. Please bear with me. I have no talent for talking or writing about myself. I’ve spent the last ten days digging through Open Grove boxes, folders and files from our garage. Because our garage leaks, the papers are wet, molded and, when they get…
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