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❝ I hold a glass prism in my hands, tilt it, and let the light pass through it, lingering to watch, completely bewildered, the changing plays of light that form and dissolve on the floor. What fascinates me is the simplicity with which the designs that now cover the tiles in the room change. And it's just a matter of millimeters. Ellison writes like this.
I hold a glass prism in my hands, tilt it, and let the light pass through it, lingering to watch, completely bewildered, the changing plays of light that form and dissolve on the floor. What fascinates me is the simplicity with which the designs that now cover the tiles in the room change. And it's just a matter of millimeters. Ellison writes like this.
❝ Ralph Ellison transcends the boundaries of African-American literature: realism is obsolete, insufficient to represent a particular and complicated situation like that of black America.
Ralph Ellison transcends the boundaries of African-American literature: realism is obsolete, insufficient to represent a particular and complicated situation like that of black America.
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