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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 had just arrived at the Pandey Ghat when the cricket match ended and a dense crowd dispersed in all the directions. I had planned to watch the cricket match for a while but had to leave disappointed. Someone in the crowd said in a raised voice, “You’re late.” I moved ahead and began climbing the steep stairs when amidst the cacophony a faded voice fell into my ears. I looked around and saw an old lady sitting on a raised platform in a corner right at the entrance of a temple. A gigantic Banyan tree had clutched the decrepit walls of the temple and its roots had spread rampantly all over the place. An Indian pariah dog was curled up just next to the old lady and its head was resting on her lap. “But I don’t have any money to give,” I said thinking she was asking for…