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It’s late morning on the Blackest of Fridays, the day after Thanksgiving in 1982. My mother, alone in the kitchen, cuts the sum of a chicken into its parts: wings, thighs, breasts. A short kitchen knife balances in her right hand.
Here you’ll find audio recordings of me reading excerpts from my memoir We Were That Family: Confronting a Murderous Legacy. Recordings include from the Mills College MFA Works In Progress series and a reading at the San Francisco Zen Center.
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