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History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, as though the one had never existed: an imaginary embryo, an empty cradle, ... emptiness running down steps toward the garden, nobody's place in line.
— Wislawa Szymborska
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My mother's only wish was to start a life in America because America was the cradle of every promise and opportunity.
— Masiela Lusha
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