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Every day angst

Every day. Well, nearly every day. Most days for sure. Yeah, let's go with most days there is lots to be anxious about. Where did that mole on my left arm come from? Is it something to be concerned about? What about the spot (don't call it age spot) on my right arm, beside that scar, from when I burned the hairs, and a little skin, when I reached into the oven ... Will I get the job I bid on? What will I cook for dinner? Why do I have to cook dinner, again? Why did she look at me like that? Does this make me look fat (fatter)? Why won't he just listen to me and do it my way? Oh, Lord! What have I done now? A couple of years back this popped up on my Facebook feed. I read a lot into what this

Eavesdropping and gleaning

I accepted the task, not knowing at the time what it meant, the transcribing of audio interviews. The young lady was at the edge of earning her Master of Fine Arts degree and had conducted the interviews over the course of several weeks. I, in turn, listened in on those conversations and, playing the audio over and over, captured the spoken words. It was hours, a few days when looped together, of my life. The conversations were with friends in her neighborhood, aged friends, as they recounted their lives. Their tales captured me. Sometimes, though I had their words down, I listened again to hear their voices. Sisters, playing off one another, joking and laughing; the singsong of memories. Th

 
 

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