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The Sadness of My Neighbors Somehow, one expects all that food to rise up out of the canning jars and off the dinner plates and do something, mean something. But, alas, it's all just stuff and more stuff, without pausing for an interval of transformation. Even family relationships go begging for any illumination. And yet, there is competence, there is some quiet glitter to the surface, a certain cleanliness, which means next to nothing, unless you want to eat off the floor. 235 ...

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