IExerts09 once knew a woman who spent most of her life in one city, who
spoke often of “taking off” but never did, who reacted to the tumult of
that life by screaming, in what became an incantation, “I could write a book about it,” but never did, who until the moment of her death was
restive and unsettled and, I think, still screaming, still trying to take
off. The woman was my mother, and the city she lived in was the one
that I left, long ago…

– from Seattle & Vicinity (essay)

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