Category: Finch
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Lilac
“I don’t feel lonely when I look at the sea,” Finch says. She shades her eyes with her hand and looks out over the Pacific. “I think about all the people who have sailed on it, all the places they’ve seen, and that fills me up.” “The seas are rising,” I say. “They’re going to…
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Believing or Seeing
Finch tells me: The man sits at the table against the wall, the one that always fills last because it is under the air conditioning vent, and is almost always either too hot or too cold, depending on the season of the year. He is unremarkable to look at–black-rimmed glasses, black jeans, a brown leather…
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Super Bowl Sunday
I’m laying on my sofa in my underwear and listening to Prince singing Purple Rain. Do people still make fun of Prince? Do people still listen to him? I don’t care. It’s one of my favorite songs and one of my favorite albums, and I don’t care what people think about it. One of the…