By Steve Almond.
Diane Sawyer asks me if I feel a calling. Given all the stories in my past about being a "party girl," why am I now touring the country to raise awareness about the crisis of children excluded because they are HIV-positive? I gaze at her face—open, devout, with lips perhaps too swollen for a woman her age—and feel a lancing pity. Federico García Lorca whispers to me:
I have sung through the world
with my mouth of seven petals.
My galleys of amaranth
have gone without ropes or oars.
I have lived in the lands
of others, My secrets
round my throat,
without my realizing it, were open!
I think this is true of Diane Sawyer as well. I think the secrets around her throat are open. But I don't think she realizes it.
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