My Personal-ity Dilemma

I heard a knock on the door. I was just diving into some coconut bliss and goddess granola for dessert, following my delicious lunch of kale, red radish and raw goat cheese lunch. I could see from the window an unfamiliar face of an African American, middle-aged man. He was on my porch, gazing in at me, stern faced. I live in a diverse neighborhood that ranges from artists and baby booming yuppies, to people living on unemployment or selling drugs. I love the diversity and unpredictability. I find it grounding. I slowly opened the door, keeping my cell phone in close proximity, as every possible melodrama and news headline flashed across my lower mind. I took a deep breath and tried to look the man straight in the eyes, unwavering.

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Sanskrit has ninety-six words for love; ancient Persian has eighty, Greek three, and English only one. This is indicative of...