Spring 2017
The photo portraits express the unguarded essence of each author.
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Years they sought her, whose crew left on the water a sad Welsh hymn.
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“The Sentry” taught me that all true laughter has tears behind it.
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We went in search of the vividly remembered missing pages.
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I was nagged by those boxes from my old life stacked in the garage.
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I forgot to detail that the jumper leapt from beside the hanging Monet.
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It dawned on me my passion was not for her but for the making-up.
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