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…his cane behind that Sunday morning? Perhaps he simply fell. Perhaps he didn’t have a heart attack. Maybe he’d still be alive if he had his cane that morning. I fell down the what-if rabbit hole.
Dennett
Jenine Bsharah Baines
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Oh, hugs, Dennett. Rabbit Holes are Hell.
J…Jen…Jeni…Jenine... Proper names are poetry in the raw. (W.H. Auden) Poet, singer, seeker, hippie grandmother gleefully revealing herself
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