the colours were too bright and he couldn't make out what the picture was. Joe liked to go the the gallery on a Thursday night because they opened late and he could visit there after finishing his stint as a bike courier.He squinted at the painting in the modern art section and wondered if his bid to seem interesting by going to an art gallery would ever pay off. He spotted a sad- looking girl standing by the darkened window and debated what his opening gambit should be, most of the things he had tried on his previous visits had...

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The acid was insanely potent this time. I was in my Halloween costume, dressed as a soldier of all things. This was no time for games. Shea was waiting for me in the basement, or maybe she was being gangraped by a pack of orthodox jewish gangsters, and waiting for me just the same. DOWN I pressed. DOWN goddamnit this is taking forever. Sitting in this elevator for what seems like an eternity. 12th floor. Man with dog. Hello dog. Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something in my teeth. Oh, the skin is burned...

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I knew that I could rely on her. No matter what the task, no matter how impossible the time frame or the scope of the task involved, she would get it done as quickly as humanly possible, and generally with a smile on her face, although sometimes she could look a little harrassed when I told her things needed to be done immediately. Producing 175 photocopies of a document which needed to be physically taken to six different areas all within 45 minutes and still whilst answering the phone and dealing with enquirers had been a little bit unreasonable, I...

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I am a Georgian. That, my family name, my faith, and the woman I love are central to my life. I was born a Georgian, in the Fruitcake Capitol of the World where I went to school, struggled with Spina Bifida and being constrained by this wheelchair. Yet, I persevered. I went on to college, studying history and graduating with a BA in Liberal Arts.
I am a strong opponent of child abuse and of ignorance in all forms. For the past ten years I have been a member of the Sons of Confederate Veterans, a fraternal organization devoted to...

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Whenever we move, I watch the rear view mirror as we drive. I can't let my home go, no matter if we lived there for three months or three years. I'm 23 now, and I still travel a lot. This time, I watch the setting sun as it disappears in my wake. The reds, oranges, and yellows mix together as my boyfriend drives me to our new house. We have a balcony that faces westward, so I can paint the sunset every night. I don't forget what I see when I drive to my new homes. Just walking down the...

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I stood on the old wooden bed I always slept in. There was always a window up high and I would always look up to it at noon and see the clock chime. There were so much out there waiting for me to learn. I wanted to go out there, explore the world, make real friends. But I couldn't. My name is Ginnadi Mistaikov. My anonymous parents dropped me to an orphanage when I was very young because they thought I would make a fool of them because of my skinniness and ugliness.
The matrons in the orphan always called...

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Spinning this wasn't going to be easy, Simon thought, suddenly conscious of his thumping heartbeat. What on earth was going to come out of his mouth? Oh well, sometimes you just have to plunge in and have faith that the words will come.
He stepped out of the wings and into the bright floodlights, smiling his confident way up to the podium. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he began. "Many of you will have seen the election results by now. . ."

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Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.

"Are you my mom?" she would ask to the passersby.

Some people would stop and inquire if she was lost, but she would just shake her head.

Some people would offer to take the girl with them to the police, but she would just run away down a narrow alley where they couldn't follow.

Most people would just ignore her and her perfect, shining red gown, taking her for some unlucky trickster.

But one day, a young woman came down the street, her eyes veiled in...

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She could listen all day. The raspy, melancholy vocals of the demo tape was not without flaws, but in this moment, perfectly delectable. Her own voice was breathtaking to her; after all, how often did she experience a conversational sing-a-long with herself? The sound was a breath of fresh air, nothing she inhale here, in the muggy city, at her perfunctory job, or with her otherwise dull life.

This was the sound of butterflies.

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The seven of them gathered around the long dinner table and silently shuffled the serving platters clockwise. Mechanical arms held, then spooned and dropped food, taping the edge lightly against the plate. Then back in the dish and passed the person to their left, and they received from the right.

Pitchers of iced water sat sweating in the middle, surrounded by short glasses, and borders by salt and pepper shakers and piles of napkins.

When all the plates were filled and the serving dishes stopped moving they leaned their heads down and a silent prayer ran from the moving lips....

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