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…de myself. For a moment, anyway. I know there’s decay all around me. I know it’s sort of beautiful. And behind me is the slope, the huge collection of white-grey-black rocks of a mountain that touches the sky because I cannot. Not from way down here.
J.D. Harms
Ann Marie Steele
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I write about love and loss, what I observe and experience — I write about hope. My writing has been described as resiliently defiant.
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