The Beautiful Answer
April 13, 2015TW Column by Steven Lewis
My son, my dear son, was desperately ill, and there was no satisfactory explanation to be found.
My son, my dear son, was desperately ill, and there was no satisfactory explanation to be found.
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The Internet has burrowed inside my head and laid eggs, and it feels like they’re all hatching.
Be it smokestacks or genetically modified corn, technology rarely comes off smelling like a daffodil.
Those gulls flying overhead know our boardwalk tastes like cotton candy.
not all sounds are scarce around here: sirens, trains, people talking
generations build god alphabetically