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On Langston Hughes

My throat feels sore from talking. I have been talking for days. Seated in Professor Sturm’s living room with some battle-weary folk. Sitting now on my porch in snow-capped Colorado. It is peaceful and quiet here, but I can’t escape heated images of flames, of rage, of desperation. I feel overwhelmed by my own feelings of grief: that my friends and strangers alike could feel so deeply cheated by both the system and country I have been taught to revere. It makes me feel cheated too. And, it is more than disconcerting. It is gut-wrenching, tumultuous, frenzied. It can’t be tamped down […]

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