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82 I Live Where I Live I live where I live because it has nothing to do with me. I could go on about the choices I’ve made and all the other elements of my landscape, emotionally carved or artfully decorated, but the real truth is, here you can see the ribs showing through. The land’s way eventually surfaces. It’s all softening like old chenille, faint voices on patios in the summer nights. So I say this has nothing to do with me but it comes to my door and I let it in. I have the conversation I wouldn’t have with Jehovah’s Witnesses. I have brandy. I cook a little red snapper. I remember Mazatlan and the plants taking over, turning over the pots, covering walls. This has nothing to do with me, this wildness that softens everything. Then again, it has nothing to do but me. ...

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