Love it or hate it. Or Both. The balance. Theres is no place for grey space.
“Señoriter,” my student said, utilizing the slang version of my teacher name. “Do you hate it here?”
“What?” I said, affronted. “No.”
“Don’t lie,” he said. “Everyone does.”
I walked away from the moment feeling strange and confused, strangely confused, as if I needed to explain myself but was unsure how.
But I don’t, I thought. I don’t hate it here.
I love Middlesboro, Kentucky.
I love the birds that waddle in clusters at the duck pond. I love the moon that hangs above the tangle of tilted telephone wires. I love the tree that pokes pointedly from the brick building across the street. I love the openness, the earnestness of a neighbor willing to help me with some small task or my landlords inviting me to Easter dinner. I love the stillness of the mountains, rising up around this crater city, protecting, guarding, watching. I love the mermaid water and…
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Пишу на русском и на английском.