“What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.” ~ Crowfoot
Progress
The familiar cold of a mid-November Sunday-- Atticus dutifully sniffs the path of his predecessor as dried leaves scrape across the paveme...
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Awareness in itself is healing. ~Fritz Pearls
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The percussion of automatic gunfire rings loud a year later rippling like a stone thrown in still waters as a surviving child drops cau...
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