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This story could be called a love letter to the Duke Ellington Orchestra. I wrote it around the time I fell head over heels for all things Ellington and started listening to his music 23 out of 24 hours in … Continue reading
This story could be called a love letter to the Duke Ellington Orchestra. I wrote it around the time I fell head over heels for all things Ellington and started listening to his music 23 out of 24 hours in … Continue reading
1985. UCLA. Sophomore year. I fell into the swell of anti-apartheid protests that engulfed the campus that year and began to live the life of the “activist student.” My mother made a suggestion.
“You should start writing a journal.”
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