The apartment has a large floor to ceiling window in the living room. From it I see the red tiled roof of the yellow brick building next door and the skyline of Chicago in the distance. I am on the seventh floor of a high rise, well above the noise and traffic of Lake Street. I have escaped. In my heart I keep a secret; I know my suffering has 'bought' me immunity. I would never say this to anyone because I know it is shameful, but to know something with your heart and not just your head are two different things. My heart, I am sorry to say, is quite untouched.
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