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The Mosquito | the cuckoo clock
https://thecuckooclock.wordpress.com/2011/09/16/the-mosquito
Stories of a nomadic heart. My blog’s biog. Missing Wishes (unfinished) →. September 16, 2011. It was the hottest July anyone could remember, including Mrs. Ida Caraway, who had lived a respectable ninety-four years. Friday and Saturday afternoons, everyone but the most distinguished old ladies lived at the water, frolicking through the disappointingly warm waves. Sundays, the preacher could barely be heard over the hum of flies and the soft swish of paper fans. That night, he lay in bed praying for a co...
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Unity Through Tragedy | the cuckoo clock
https://thecuckooclock.wordpress.com/2010/10/14/unity-through-tragedy
Stories of a nomadic heart. My blog’s biog. October 14, 2010. Around eleven in the morning students started to disappear; One by one, my friends were called out of class. At noon recess, we could see clouds of smoke streaming across the sky from our lookout on the playground. What happened? City; it was now. Neighbors running from the dust and debris,. Coworkers evacuating lower Manhattan,. Police officers and firefighters and volunteers risking their lives to save strangers. My eyes filled with tear...
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Missing Wishes (unfinished) | the cuckoo clock
https://thecuckooclock.wordpress.com/2012/01/25/missing-wishes-unfinished
Stories of a nomadic heart. My blog’s biog. January 25, 2012. I wish I didn’t miss your lips. The weight of your gaze. The gate to our place. I wish I didn’t miss your teeth. Your I don’t knows…. This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Address never made public). You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out. I'll be u...
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Loss | the cuckoo clock
https://thecuckooclock.wordpress.com/2011/04/17/loss
Stories of a nomadic heart. My blog’s biog. The Mosquito →. April 17, 2011. Before there was loneliness, there was love. And before there was love, there was nothing. And nothing was easier to bear. A woman’s world is full of loss. I am Tess of the D’Urbervilles. I am Jane Eyre. This entry was posted in Uncategorized. And tagged Jane Eyre. Tess of the D'Urbervilles. The Mosquito →. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Alaina Mabaso&#...