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Hands in place of eyes
Sand falls and the earth rotates
Man’s constructs of time
About the Creator
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The Missing Ingredient
The first time I saw her, she was wearing a velvety, red ribbon in her hair. She carried a small leather backpack everywhere. She searched the forest by turning stones, checking beneath shrubs, listening to the wind as if it might carry an answer.
By Imola Tótha day ago in Fiction
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