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Where the Green Grass Grows.
Rusty and worn, though young at heart, the two chairs sit side by side. Weathering seasons of sun and storm. They wiggle their…
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Strange things about TICA
I am spontaneous to a fault. Most things fall in my lap. I am lucky. Often I can sense things before they happen. I…
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George Lucien Jean Cadic
L’amour partagé est une lumière même dans l’obscurité. …
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Song of Silence
Sitting on the wall, she played her song. Wondering what to do, what to say, she didn’t know. The notes came…
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Red Riding Hood’s Secret
Today at the flea market in Marseille, I came across Little Miss Riding Hood. She was extra cheery at that ungodly hour.…
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Oh my Darling Clémentine
The winter fruit clémentine, with its bright colored skin that slips off like a glove, is a pure taste…
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Bartering with Myself
I have a thing for French antique papers when I spot them at the flea markets my feet stop moving and my…
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Roses that cannot be Picked
Though my thoughts are many they are not ready to be picked today. Memories lead me down a lane, with roses growing…
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The Dog Learns a New Trick
I know you have seen this dog on this girl’s head before, but did you know I love movies? Well…
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Inner Truth
We have a choice in everything we do. To bloom where we are planted or not. To strive to be our best, or to raise…
Categories
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- Palestine, Helping Mohammed and his Family
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- Willows, Memories from Back Home