The hour you are most alone: how I got trapped by poverty and depression

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The demise of my old life began with a single, tiny mistake: my partner, making a turn, forgot to signal – and the car accident shattered everything

Two young black bulls stormed up out of the ditch to fight the middle of the road, muscles straining as they bludgeoned one another with their flat, heavy skulls. The red dust they kicked up clung to their sweat-dampened flanks like old blood.

I turned the truck around and took the next side trail into a field and parked – nose out, in case I had to leave in a hurry – next to a man-high pile of cut brush.

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This post was syndicated from Health | The Guardian. Click here to read the full text on the original website.


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