decaying gracefully

November. The birth-month of the colour grey. The dim season that reminds us, in cool hushed tones, that all things decay then pass. Because our seemingly fool-proof escape plan includes the perfect hibernation scenario, we forget.  Surely we will be one of the ones who succeeds to see yet another spring.  It will not happen…

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death date not cut

I discovered the death date not cut phrase on a web site that acts as an online roll call of the sleepy inhabitants of a small country cemetery near the town where I was born. And in fact, this bracketed set of words sits ominously next to the name of my 101 year-old grandmother who…

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