Today, writing feels like planting the proverbial tree in the face of the apocalypse. Decades ago, I started writing to make words mean again. When I fled as a refugee from Bosnia to Sweden in the 1990s, there was a time when words stopped…
Today, writing feels like planting the proverbial tree in the face of the apocalypse. Decades ago, I started writing to make words mean again. When I fled as a refugee from Bosnia to Sweden in the 1990s, there was a time when words stopped…
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