The Golden Mirror
Act I Did I ever tell you about the year the river rose? No, I suppose not. It is the kind of thing that sticks in the throat, like a fish bone, and one forgets to swallow. I am Efua Lawan, and I am fifty-eight years old, though my hands shake with the tremor of a man who has carried too much weight for too long. I live at one hundred and nine of the Rope Walk, a place where the mud seeps up...
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