The wind makes no sound without what it touches, branches, bushes, the mountains and valleys of land. But true friendship is formed in the otherwise silence of dry autumn leaves in the breeze.
Flash Fiction Fridays
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- A Death in The Family
- At Swim Two Birds
- Barthes
- BASS
- Black Swan Green
- Blindness
- BLOGGING
- Borges
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- Clockwork Orange
- Confrontation
- Consolation of Philosophy
- Cormac McCarthy
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- EDUCATION
- Faulkner
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- Henderson The Rain King
- if on a winter's night a traveler
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- Margaret Atwood
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- POETRY
- provinces of night
- REALITY
- St. Augustine
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- The Unbearable Lightness of Being
- Tropic of Cancer
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"I will breakfast from the cupboard where uneaten dreams are kept"
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"I foresee the successful future of a very mediocre society."
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