I Pity The Poor Orphan, Sitting With A Hand On Each Coffin

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I am in love with a beautiful writer.
Her name is Eden.

Eden’s words skip on a page
like a stone on a lake’s surface.

PIP . . . PIP. . PIP. PIP pip pip pip pip pip pip pip plunk

And a few days ago,
I was led by her,
to another storyteller’s words.
Another master of the pebble skipping.

His name is Charles Waterstreet.
An author and barrister
and
a word-smith.

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.

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Such a beautiful, intoxicating writer.

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.

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Please read his piece
published on May 16th.

Each Day A Miracle Of Survival In The Face Of Despair

You will FEEL so much.

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