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The Journey with Joan Ball
Behind the Mask: Is There a True Self?
By
Joan Ball
This poem has been haunting me lately… No one lives his life. Disguised since childhood, haphazardly assembled from voices and fears and little pleasures, we come of age as masks. Our true face never speaks. Somewhere there must be storehouses where all these lives are laid away like suits of armor or old carriages or…
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