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Contributor: Suez Jacobson

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The world
The one I live in.
Or is it the one
I only read about
In the New Yorker?
Is foreign
Pooled in sex
And hate
And death
And all that’s ugly
But passes as art.
Or is the art the stuff
That surrounds it
Critiques it
Make us question
Our own willingness to participate
In it
To sink into
The pool.
Become a part of the
If only to fit?
Or not.
Can we run
Or hide
Or just die?

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An economist who is working to renounce to her identity in lieu of another, any other.


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