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It hadnβt occurred to me that there were prisons made of lilacs. Brilliant purple in May. Brown by the end of June. I made hesitant escapes. Then collapsed into the fervour that kept me working away.
J.D. Harms
Ann Marie Steele
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What an opening!π₯°π₯°π
I write about love and loss, what I observe and experience β I write about hope. My writing has been described as resiliently defiant.
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