Day ? of the pandemic. The storms roll in, tornado warnings and flooding, devastation for so many in the south, although you’d think plagues would be enough, and everyone pitches in to help, even so. And when the storms rolled out, the sun returned, the grass was crystal-speckled and the air smelled of grass and…

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I was twenty, and it was somewhere round three o’clock in the morning.  I sat at a battered desk in the corner of the bedroom in my basement apartment in Montreal.  The floor was warped from one of the unending water leaks in the ancient plumbing and the desk wobbled. Charlie Mingus’s music played from…

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