I always wanted a pony

I’m in my second floor study in Durham NC. The January sun picks out the white house with its red door on the far side of the ivy climbing the trees and fences. Above, the sky is blue and the hawks are circling. In a few days, it will be the fiftieth anniversary of the Greensboro student sit-in which took place an hour down the road from here. What has happened between Greensboro and this sunlit winter view is some of what interests me. And then, there’s the little girl so far away in Greenwich Village, who always wanted a horse. I never got that horse and have taken my journey on another steed — words.

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