A few years back my father gave me a newspaper. Throughout
the pages are Ali. I think…I’ve never opened it. Idle sat my
idol. Enclosed, in plastic to preserve its freshness. More like
suffocation, I was dying from anxiety. I wanted to read the pages, but I bottled in the frustration. In hopes, I would meet the
man on the cover. But on occasion I still gloss over the black
and white ink. Looking at a man who tried to reverse the idea of
black and white think... I mean thought, any way I’m just glad
my dad bought… that newspaper.
Randolph Buffington ‘13
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