Nonfiction | September 01, 1995

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Violence was on my mind when I went to see palaeoecologist Paul Martin at the University of Arizona’s Desert Lab in Tucson.  The night before, my first night in town, I had stopped at a convenience store to make a phone call.  A teenage boy grabbed my purse.  We scuffled, he ran, and I was on the ground, my wallet still gripped under my arm, my legs waving feebly.  I felt like an overturned potato bug.

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