In the writing class I teach, a young South African manof Afrikaans, not British, descentread his personal essay aloud to us. He wrote of being born into apartheid, and never realizing that something in his world was gravely amiss until he was 8 years old. One morning, having collected his mother’s kiss and “I love […]
Author Archives: Charisse Coleman
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Tree’s a crowd
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A long road … increments
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Streetwise
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