In a message dated 12/09/2003 3:54:09 AM, [log in to unmask] writes:
<< like scented smoke on damp air
and season his hard, grained features,
carve, as in wood, those lines,
strained into a time, a place
that at last agrees with him? >>
Love these lines. Don't know if you need to keep reminding the reader of the
lack of memory.
kol tuv, Ryfkah
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