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Thursday, August 11, 2011

bits

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confession: i don't have a passport. so when i received an invite to take part in an international trip, i panicked. i posted a plea for advice on my facebook wall, i sweated some blood, i googled, i kicked myself for not getting a passort years earlier...

i got lucky! the city hall of my hometown is a passport portal. i filled out the application, took a crappy picture and sent off my paperwork. expedited!
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i've never been out of the country. mexico doesn't count! it's not a "foreign" country to me. ha.
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four poems: sheryl luna
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i hope this trip works out. i've accepted the offer. the only thing that would keep me from going would be if my passport was held up. but the nice woman at the passport office said my paperwork was fine.
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keeping my fingers crossed.
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Pakistan is a country that reveres poetry, gently weaving it into daily life, and the last decade has provided no shortage of material. The rise and fall of a military ruler, the demands of a foreign superpower, the devastation of Taliban bombs — these themes and more have crept into Pakistani poems.
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"My womb is starry, my number is nine."

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