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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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I just came across this, one of my random thoughts, written several years ago.  I suppose it got lost in my secure filing in a misplaced folder.  But I suppose it still holds true.  My niece in California had complained once about not being able to talk to her parents in India, because the phone wasn’t working back home and her parents’ Internet was down too.  We have come a long way.  Only a few decades ago I could not talk to my folks back home because they did not even own a phone.  Telegram, if it came, usually carried bad news.  And before arriving in a new land about five decades ago with one suitcase with all my worldly possession and eight dollars in my pocket, I used to travel by train packed with people,  inside, outside and on the roof, because that’s all we could afford. The first…