memoir: fore/ward/telling

In March, I started seriously thinking about writing a memoir, and this memory is what I thought would start it, because I wanted to capture the busy softness of my life before. I wanted to start it in a way that said it was more of a love story than a horror story, but horrible things definitely happen.

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the floor is

When I was a kid, I was ready for lava. I would leap from chair to table, rescuing my home from its ashen fate in the heated unstoppable ooze.  It was a game, I suppose, but to me, it was preparation. When I was a kid, I was afraid of the substances that could kill you […]

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