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Refugees in a Banana Republic
Literary

Refugees in a Banana Republic

Early dawn, when fog hung…

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A Day with Breanne Mc Ivor
Interview

A Day with Breanne Mc Ivor

Meet Breanne Mc Ivor. She…

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Nocturnal Conductions
Humor

Nocturnal Conductions

The first time it happened,…

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The Lady of the Water
Fiction

The Lady of the Water

I’d thought Central America would…

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Never Will I Leave Home
Literary

Never Will I Leave Home

You have not seen our…

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Two Blind Men
Flash Fiction

Two Blind Men

They knew well I was…

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An Interview with Ernest Brawley
Interview

An Interview with Ernest Brawley

Ernest Brawley, a native Californian,…

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The dance of the light sabres on the canal water did little to convince Noa that they were mere reflections of neon lights. The neon signs were the signature since time immemorial. Their colour even lent itself in naming the place. As she sat dangling her legs over the canal with a Heineken on her hand, she scanned the masses that were thronging into the lanes lining the canal. Young, old, white, black, brown, males, females, couples, singles, all with impertinent expressions laced in lust. Noa let out a sigh, an ode to how human nature never ceased to amaze her. In one of the windows near her:  “Hey, how much are you down for pretty thing?” The middle aged Korean smiled as he moved his lips and waved his hands to get his message of interest across the glass door. The brunette in her leopard skin lingerie, hugging…