When my Father Died my Forehead Died
by Rivka Miriam: When my father died my forehead died. / At first I didn’t understand the whiteness that spread over it
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by Rivka Miriam: When my father died my forehead died. / At first I didn’t understand the whiteness that spread over it
When my Father Died my Forehead Died Read More »
The truth and I are flatmates. Since I moved in before her my room is larger than hers. Since I sleep late and she wakes early we share each day only eight hours, half of them darkness, half light. Some mornings she longs to wake me up, hesitates at the edge of my room while
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