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No machine
In lieu of goodbye I send a tiny house in the mail, flimsy porcelain talisman a weak barricade. Like Joni I become cellophane, no personal defenses, the wrapper on a pack of cigarettes, the dirt on the road of your espresso cup — in sand in bone you will learn to drink it. I let…
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“When I come down off this mountain”: concealment in popular queer film
As Roya Reese treks through layers of concealment, the Nassau Weekly is with her every step of the way.
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