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The second hand of a clock can be so cruel. Every tick, falling like a French guillotine, severing the head of every second, once passed never to return. And nothing left of that past second to mourn its death. There should be bodies lying around. Bodies of all the lost seconds.
Paroma Sen
Jenine Bsharah Baines
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This is just amazing. Brilliant. So creative.
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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