Kenneth Bernoska

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“Look at this,” my mother said, gesturing to the scene inside. “Do you really think this is an environment for children?” When Mum insisted that we were leaving, I walked a few steps toward her. My dad told me to come back, and I froze. Stephen, who had followed me to the door, shuffled forward into Mum’s embrace. But I stood between my parents, paralyzed by the impossible choice.
The Education of an Idealist: A Memoir
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