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Post by Don Schaeffer on Jun 9, 2012 13:27:48 GMT -5
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They quiver with the motion of her hand and she calls them pretty. No one comes . here without joy. Fiber filagree adds color miracles. Needy, pretty, drizzled. Shivering. . as she moves them. The women tote them, arranging and mixing them in the sun. . Life is in whispers, lighter than gauze, the shuffle of breath, the brush of tooth on lip.
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Post by Ivan Carswell on Jun 10, 2012 17:38:56 GMT -5
An amazing picture - it echoes ideas, resounds rhythm
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Post by Don Schaeffer on Jun 11, 2012 9:19:20 GMT -5
Thanks Ivan. (is this forum dead? How can I help?)
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