Clare Peppler

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I return to English and find my quick wit there, right where I left it. I feel sharp again. Like a toddler in its mirror stage, aroused by recognition. That thrill of being who I am swirls around my belly. William takes the juice off my skin where it shines like spittle, laughs at my jokes because he gets them, they are for him.
If an Egyptian Cannot Speak English
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