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Memoirs of an American Girl I remember that winter as through a veil of dark water. It felt like I was sinking in a jar—full of grime and muffled voices—a winter that wasn’t a winter at all, but rather an evaporation of the soul. It was 2005, and we were landing at Otopeni.   I still see that green glow of the afternoon hovering above the runway, and at its far end, half-dissolved in fog, a billboard with   salami shining in an eerie light. My mother was crying. She had crie