"In the cellars of the night, when the mind starts moving around old trunks of bad times, the pain of this and the shame of that, the memory of a small boldness is a hand to hold."
John Leonard, critic (1939-2008)
Here I was, am, shall be, tending the tree I planted, by the well I built, with water from my hands. The clay under my fingernails that wo...
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