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Last night Kurosawa’s woodcutter strode through the forest, his axe on his shoulder. Intense sunlight stabbed and sparkled and...
My breath’s the wind’s breathless down-stroke hasty claw like the gnarred finger of juniper just now clambering for a...
Nothing new on Bahnhofstrasse! — These are the first words to occur to me upon arrival. With the word...
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