truth history, truth a person remembers. {she} sat edge {the lake}, me — Rebecca Wells, Little Altars Everywhere

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There is the truth of history, and there is the truth of what a person remembers. As {she} sat at the edge of {the lake}, memory blossoms floated unbounded, as though breathed, no words spoken. Like birds that fly across national borders, between countries at war at each other.

Rebecca Wells, Little Altars Everywhere

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