Woke this morning with a singular memory – ripping up that metal strip which separated the linoleum from the carpet, kitchen from livingroom in the Montara house where I grew up. Ah the persistence of memory – I ensconced myself in the covers and dove into the pool of that fantasy, and came out with a notion that this moment of ripping out the formerly permanent trappings of my childhood home was a vital catharsis, my right of passage into manhood.

- M. Oropeza


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