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Abstract

This is an essay about coming to terms with the fact that your parents are never really who you think they are. This is an essay about coming to terms with why your parents are who they are. This is an essay about coming to terms with your parents in general. This is an essay about refusing terms, like a nihilistic psychoanalyst. It is not a self-help guide, and it certainly is not a how-to. It is photos pinned to a clothes line, it is a terrarium not fully formed. It is what had to be said, and done.

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