Kevin Connelly was born without legs and in his 20s decided to take photos of people staring at him as a way of responding to the stares. I think he was 23 when he wrote this and his writing is not terribly polished or mature. But I appreciated his honesty and most enjoyed the essays that featured his father or mother. They seemed the most detailed and compelling. I hope he’ll write something again, maybe in his 30s.
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