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Show CHRYSALIS n*„„ n PAGE 223 -26- I gather up the last of the folded laundry - mostly diapers, and stack it in the wagon. Since the car was repossessed we travel by horse and cart, minus the horse, of course. I drag the wagon up the hill toward home, thinking it must be a hundred degrees in the shade. I catch a glimpse of myself reflected in the glass of a store window as I pass. My hair is wet with sweat and it flies wildly around my head like electric wires. My cheeks are flushed. Somewhere in this grotesque body, like the baby I carry, there is a small, delicate, beautiful person that is also me, trapped, imprisoned in flesh and sweat and |