The armadillo
January 5th 2010 The Igbo say the place where one wakes up is home.
Eyes flipped open to dawn. “My last day” I said to no one. Somehow odd to know the way to school finally only to use this knowledge once. Diagonal across the park, turn right, along the creek, past sheep foraging in the garbage. I passed the old cigar factory, one of the only two factories in the town. Three hombres stil
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