“The March amber of your voice, now buried in my awareness is nothing less than a bond, a bridge created by conversations – in themselves rhapsodies in thunder, which evoke questions and laments that so rightfully ask, who are you? this question like fragile streaks of escaping melodies – and the child of long ago that I continue to be, wants the truth to be a noble as that, which in innocence you’ve always owned,”
Short Stories
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“rhapsodies in thunder”–love that line. I like the questioning of oneself