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From the Archive: Unbound
It’s always been ground glass, scraping against my insides. I imagine a light held to the place where I open would illuminate a mess of torn flesh, throbbing red-wet.
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The 52/52 Project: Detours off the Cul-de-sac
When I chose belly dancing classes as the first of my fifty-two new experiences in the year I would turn fifty-two, I knew looking sexy was a long shot.
