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June 2005, vol 1 no 1
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Adelaide B. Shaw, USA Winter The house in darkness. I watch thick flakes, descending slowly. They seem suspended as if in a viscous liquid. Bushes assume a rounded shape; fences appear to sink into the ground. A deep quiet, without and within. Even the mechanical voices of the appliances, subdued and still. I stand transfixed. falling snow-between dusk and darkness there is no time
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