I first met Gia, a young schoolgirl, one afternoon while walking with Moy Moy, our twenty-one-year-old daughter who has special needs. Gia was on her way home from classes. She approached us full of questions about why Moy was in a stroller, why she drooled, why she couldn’t speak, where she went to school, what she learned there, and what was the point if she couldn’t talk. Gia’s questions were rapid-fire, as if she couldn’t keep up with her own mind. Sometimes questions like that bother me...
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