“What do I believe in?” Not necessarily a question posed to catch the reader’s attention, but a question posed to the self. (Which may catch the reader’s attention). In sum, I believe in the following nonpaused reflections, associations, people: I believe in Anne Frank and I would like to believe, two days before National Holocaust Remembrance Day, that in spite of everything, people are truly good at heart. I believe in Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, and the personally resonant ache of what Clarissa loved– ‘life, London, this moment in June.’ (Though this essay is written in April). I believe in the power of good women’s writing. I believe in Boston, tea, tea parties, plays, and playing at tea parties. I believe in cities, particularly New York City, and sometimes the Twin Cities. I believe in hope. I believe the words in Regina Spektor’s “Fidelity” ring too true for me and for many others, and yet I do believe in Regina Spektor’s album title, “Begin to Hope.” (It is my hope that many others do as well). I would like to write that a singular event shaped this smattering of abovementioned beliefs, hammered out by computer keys at full force. Yet I write from many small events strung together and inspired by these various reflections, associations, and people. In these I believe.
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