What Is The Epilogue To George Finch's Monologue

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This changes nothing. I’m still I am, and ain’t there no way any of the white community could understand me. Heck, would they ever understand me? Would they? They just see me laying back and sipping my “alcohol” and just not caring about anything. Robinson, Dred, whoever—those names mean nothing to me. What I believe is what I believe, and whatever happens stays with me. It’s none of their business anyways, and I just wish more than a couple a’ children could understand. When I see Mr. Finch’s children, I see a future so bright, they don’t have a giant elephant to squat them down. What I anguish about is my own children—what will happen to them? Scout and Jem are great folks, but they don’t have anything sittin’ on them. My dear children
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