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Slowly I’m peeling apart the two accounts, to think about education and working futures (here) and climate and communities (there). It feels like this might make sense. Let’s see. Randomly, my dad was an identical twin. He and his brother called each other Bill. Many wartime letters survive, in identical writing, “dear Bill, love Bill”. He died young and his brother lived on alone for another fifty years, into his nineties.

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