"I once wrote a short story called 'The Best Blues Singer in
the World' and it went like this: 'The streets that Balboa walked were
his own private ocean, and Balboa was drowning.' End of story. That says
it all. Nothing else to say. I've been rewriting that same story over
and over again. All my plays are rewriting that same story. I'm not sure
what it means, other than life is hard."
– August Wilson
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