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Even the water is crowded, starboards bumping ports to bump another. On the water no divisions exist, small fishing boats rise and fall next to aristo..
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I can still taste the salt water washing over our deck in a storm. I still feel the worn grain under me, smooth from years of mopping, pacing and figh..
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Bustling tides of grey like hurtling schools of fish swim along an unseen current. Flotsam of crates, food and goods drift among drenched bodies. Musc..
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She was gaunt and worry sat upon her face, pulling dark bags from under her grey eyes. Swathed in maroon, she is out of place Her once flowing red hai..
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Perched on a wooden stool with his hand-stitched boots planted firmly in the ground, an old sailor waits. A soot filled pipe protruding from a bushy w..
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A large suntanned man, wading through an undercurrent of grey dockworkers makes his way to the edge of the dock. His silver spyglass sashed across his..
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Hello. I am God.
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A day it rains, and I have saved nothing for it.
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Rebuilding a thought
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The morbid fairy tale from the point of view of the wife
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