Letters from us

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Chris Fraser Chris Fraser

On holding, and being held.

Sometimes we don’t see a question coming.

A few weeks ago, I was visiting my friend Linda, who I’ve written about here before. She has memory loss, and one evening at dinner she turned to me, eyebrows raised, and said…

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Chris Fraser Chris Fraser

Right now. Where is the poem right now.

The other day I was on FaceTime with my dear friends, Linda and Gary.

I call them my godparents. Linda has advanced memory loss and struggles to follow conversations now, so it was mostly Gary and I chatting. I was missing her voice.

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Chris Fraser Chris Fraser

My brain hurts.

Lately my brain feels like an abandoned car, quietly rusting in a field off the side of a highway.

Small tasks feel epic. Afternoons fill with thick mental fogs…

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Chris Fraser Chris Fraser

Writing While the World is on Fire

I used to run a workshop called “Writing While the World is on Fire.”

The idea was to bring together people who were working for a better world…

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Chris Fraser Chris Fraser

Let’s be awkward together.

Sometimes I think I’ve forgotten how to belong.

By “belong," I mean — to walk into a room of people and feel basically okay, without performing, or hiding, or trying to be perfect.

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