Diary Of A Schizophrenic

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My Birthday Diary: Part Two: Harvard Square

In Harvard Square, I sat on a ledge, eating a chicken-and-cheddar on whole wheat, and listened to a guitarist, in a berry tee shirt and khaki shorts, strum and sing folk songs.  I felt sure the locals knew I’m an outsider, from somewhere else, an ordinary tourist skipping her beat on the streets.

 

To be a woman traveling alone, post-illness, has been an experience, even though last year I went to Montreal.  In April 1987, in my last semester in college, I visited my cousin in San...

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