So while I have had the great good fortune of having recovered quite a bit in my year away from the place I most consider home (I can now drive again—as much as I want to, with the heater on, without wearing a mask filled with activated charcoal made from organically-grown coconut husks; I can walk into a store that's being painted without my throat closing up, without my heart starting to pound and the adrenaline beginning to crank; I can have a drink), my year in exile (who knows how much longer it will go on?) has also gotten me thinking about what it means to be Safe.





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