Every year, between Guy Fawkes Night and Thanksgiving, there was a holiday that everyone on the island could celebrate despite their cultural background. Tabula Rasa Day might not get the same fanfare as the other two red letter days, but it was well-enjoyed nonetheless because it commemorated the establishment of the community, a new home and a
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It reminds me a fair bit of Providence, a thought that could be depressing in the utmost, and I remind myself that there is no 'rest of the world' here to infringe upon these people's lives. Only the island's own brand of malice, but if anything it seems to forge the bonds of community more strongly. Everyone here is a survivor.
I'm dressed down compared to what I wear to teach or what I wore to make my speech in, just a pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt I found in the box, the design of which was strangely appealing. I keep an eye out for my students, and my friends, ( ... )
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He gives Steve a broad grin when he sees his broad frame standing out in the crowd and makes his way over. "Hello," he greets. "Nice party, right?"
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"It is. You did a great job, the other day."
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"Thanks," he says. "You, too. I really did like your speech. I like your, er.. focus."
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"I'm not sure it was much of a platform, but after the past few months, it's... what I've been thinking about, a lot."
The past few days, I've mostly been thinking about Peggy, and in turn, Sharon, and things I've left undone, unfinished. The election process is a welcome enough reprieve.
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He pauses to take a sip of his drink, mulling over Steve's words, Rory's memory of what he said up on the stage. "It's not fair, is it? All the things that can happen to a person in a life. But we've got to do the best we can, all the same."
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"But then, there are other people who'd know better than I would. Neil, for one. People who have been here five years, it's difficult to imagine."
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"Being trapped, in a certain string of events from their past? Being made to go through them repeatedly until they change one thing, or don't, as the case may be, and then just like that, they're back on the island and no time has changed?"
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"I've heard of it," he says calmly. "It's not happened to me, personally, but I've heard of it. ...Was it your past?"
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"It made me wonder. How many people have gone through this? How long has it been happening? If people don't know that it's happening to others, that sense of isolation alone, combined with the potential trauma of the experience... The damage this could be doing to people..." I shake my head.
"I can't help thinking there has to be something that can be done, to make it easier. Dealing with it, afterward."
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"Well, there's therapy," he says. "But you can't force people into that. Talking about it is... difficult, in addition to being painful sometimes. It's personal, a personal experience."
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