She loved scraping kernels off of dried corn cobs. When she looked at me I knew all she to refused to bear. Sitting in silence on a blanket, side by side, we scraped the last one clean. I began to speak, and she stopped me, as she put her hands on her knees and slowly tapped an African rhythm. It struck me as magnificent, gladiatorial.
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Authorrunning the whole length of the horizon... Archives
August 2018
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