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July 16, 2010
It occurs to me that I need to tell my story as much as anyone else in the factory. I just don’t know what my story is. I don’t know why I am here. I remember my first day here. One of the big men approached me saying he had been there for five years. “What did you do to get that?” I asked. “Car accident,” he said. “What did you do?” he asked. I thought. “I don’t know,” I said. “You don’t remember?” he asked. “I don’t know,” I said. He was walking away as if I were poison.