I stood in the bustling conference hall in London, clutching my copy of the memoir. Across the room was its author—a man whose words about losing a parent at a young age had resonated with my own experience of losing my father at age five. The fact that his mother had been from Newport, like me, felt like an amazing coincidence.
Heart pounding, I approached his booth.
"Your talk today was incredible and I loved your memoir," I told him, pointing at my copy.
“You actually read it?”
“Of course, I'm from Newport too! And I notice you run a nonprofit in order to help disadvantaged people access care. I'm actually a trustee of a charitable trust trying to improve mental health outcomes in our community."
His expression shifted subtly. Was that a cringe?....
A narrated essay from The Pressures of Privilege.
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