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  • When I was a little girl, I loved to spin until I fell down in a nauseous, dizzy heap.

    "Basta!" my mother would yell. "Stop! You'll shake up your brain."

    But I loved the feeling so I did it anyway, spinning in that space of defiance, of feeling free and independent.

    The young man at the Crazy Horse Memorial spun and spun and spun, and then stopped short on one foot. He didn't look dizzy or stagger at all. I wanted to get up and spin and dance to the drums too, to shake off the adult I had become and realize the little girl again.
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