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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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Cascading down through the years like a beautiful ribbon marking the pages of my life, our friendship spanned far longer than our two lifetimes and therefore does not recognize mortality.  Having already been accustomed to our long-distance relationship, I find that this existence without him continues without paper, pen, or phone. But it has been almost 60 years since I first saw him.  I vividly recall that my eight-year-old-self stopped breathing and that very second remains memorialized for me.With absolutely nothing to go on but generational memory, I recognized him. Of course it was a Western.  Having been obsessed with horses since birth, I was an avid viewer of Westerns; luckily for me, they were in vogue at the time.  But I immediately directed my mother’s attention to the television.  I insisted that I knew the person on the screen.  No explanation of hers could change my mind.  Was it…