The Distant Metropolis

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2026-08-19 20:17:56 -

The banquet hall smelled of roasted pheasant and expensive perfume, a thick, cloying atmosphere that seemed to settle in the lungs like damp wool. We were gathered in the atrium of the St. Jude’s Behavioral Assessment Center, a place that purported to help children find their way, yet which I had come to see as a machine for sorting souls into categories that did not fit. I was seven years old,...

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