![]() Historic times! There have always been letters and diaries written in times of tumult and discovered later, and my thought is that I could be writing one of those. Whatever is actually occurring, there is constant breaking news about how it will be handled-speculation, really, concerning what comes next-which is why I am writing an account. What is happening involves the indivisible, the quanta of which we are created. I am sure somebody will come up with a name for what is happening, but I cannot imagine how everything around us and everything within us can be fixed. Or maybe sideways, in a way as yet ungrasped. ![]() Apparently-I mean, nobody knows-our world is running backward. ![]() I’ll write this anyway, because ever since last week things have changed. When I tell you that my white name is Cedar Hawk Songmaker and that I am the adopted child of Minneapolis liberals, and that when I went looking for my Ojibwe parents and found that I was born Mary Potts I hid the knowledge, maybe you’ll understand. ![]()
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