“Sometimes,” she said, “You can come home from brothel visits and take it in stride. Other times, the harshness of what they face night after night, and how we can just walk away at the end of the visit, hits home and the gulf between us feels overwhelming.“
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This spring, I visited Vanessa’s* to share Sunday lunch and a rite-of-passage tradition for her toddler. She received me in her stepmother’s home, one of two living relatives in her life. I cut her toddler’s hair for the first time - the hair he entered this world with – which now designates me as his godmother.
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