I could see the difference in our skin colors. I couldn’t pretend anymore.
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In this room full of strangers we are dominos: like first pairs with like. The least dissimilar pieces connect over the obvious and arbitrary. If our identities possess any intricate craftwork, it has been blurred and obscured and forgotten. Now we are distracted by the markings on each other’s faces, by the brushstrokes that have painted over all of our messy and complicated humanness.
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“You know, I can just tell you are a true African Queen.”
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