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Written by Domenico Maceri
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Saturday, 31 March 2001 |
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The looks on my uncle's and his customer's faces clearly suggested they were talking about me while I was standing next to them. I had no idea what they were saying. Nothing bad, I am sure, but although I was 16, I felt powerless as a baby might feel as she tries to reach for an object and the hand does not go where it's supposed to. I had been in the United States only a few days and knew almost no English. How I wished I knew what they were saying. |
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