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November 18, 2014
The driver said something unintelligible. He like all the other people who live around here stopped trying to be understood by outsiders a long time ago, and talked in a dialect that even people in the next town struggled to comprehend. They talk to me with hand gestures, smiles, and movements of their head, but mainly smiles. I walk to the shop every two or three days smiling from the time I leave the front gate to when I return, even when I want to cry and scream and am only leaving the house because I am affraid of solitude.