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Echolalia, an early warning sign of …
I can almost hear a savannah-bound animal through the not-so-distant murmur of time, but the static has grown unusually thick today and has taken on strange and hypnotic form: chants of war, rosary prayers begging for peace; tragedy and comedy built around chorus and refrain; the watchmen crying the cycling hours, tribal histories passed down as sung recipe; the recitation of poetry and its beguiling trick of rhyme; and finally those incessant, relentless demands for justice—the repeated rhetorical rapture of “I have a dream.”
Echolalia, an early warning sign of … a language disability?
Copyright © 2011 by Alan Griswold
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