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Book Description by Greenfield McKenna & so it was that I sought my mother, sent out to hoggin', sent out for torture & sadness. From the city of hope to the desert of dreams, the arid climate of desire, & so it was that I found my mother. There she lay, the size of a house, of an ivory tower, & she spewed hate & foul breath upon my sadness, & my eyes stung & I wept. I loved her, I did, but so it was that I discovered that this mother was not all she seemed to be. This is not a true story, for true stories are not stories but are series of events which can be related in simple, plain words. This tale, this fiction, this story of deception, while I write in first-person, did not happen to me. When I searched for my Fat Her, I did not realize all that I would lose, all that I would gain, all that I would hate. It leaves me with an unending sadness although it is not my series of events to tell. Will I ever love again? Who shall say? We shall see. |
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