From The Last of Her Kind, a novel by Sigrid NunezÂ
As usual when I look back at the past, I am afraid of remembering things wrong. (p.11)
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My mother. Already she has interrupted this story several times. Makes sense. She was very much with me in those days. Did I miss her? I would not say so, exactly. That last year at home, in particular, I had been so glad to be getting away, and it would be a lie to say she wasn’t one of those things I was glad to be getting away from. (p. 19)
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