THE STARLIGHT PROJECT

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2026-05-26 21:11:44 -

The Chicago docks at dawn in 1918 possessed a particular kind of cruelty, the sort that seeped through your boots and into your bones. I was sixteen years old, standing shoulder to shoulder with a hundred other boys on the packing-house wharf, watching the fog lift off the South Branch like a shroud being pulled away from a corpse. The air smelled of river mud and raw meat and the sour tang of...

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