Nonfiction | June 01, 2007
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I’m nine, I’m thirteen, I’m twenty-two and a football’s sailing over my head as I run full out, a step ahead of the guy behind me, my arms stretched to their limit. When the ball descends between my arms, my hands press just enough of it to grip it and pull it to me as I keep running, all the way over the goal line….the point is, I ran. Like you. I jumped, stretched, danced, did everything a body does, and more than many. In a world where I was the smallest boy, and by a lot, I kept up.
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30.2 (Summer 2007): "Truth in Fancy"
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