Reflections

May 19, 2021

The blue wool sweater my father wore in the autumn of 1998 is gone, thinned by moths and eventually discarded, but I...

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May 18, 2021

I remember standing on the pier at Brighton when the wind was so fierce it felt like a physical hand pushing against...

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May 18, 2021

The smell of raw cotton always brings me back to the humid afternoons of my childhood, where the air felt thick enough...

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