Sara Kennedy Confronting Reality   Reality is no raging bull, rushing at you as you whip away the red skin of illusion. Reality is just the matronly waitress with purple eyeshadow who sits right down in the booth next to you, coffeepot in hand, and says: Round here, darlin', we don't call that love. We call that a pleasant indiscretion. and pats you condescendingly, kindly on the shoulder as she smooths the bill facedown on the table.

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