Father worked the rails. Free passage was our rite. Hours rocking back and forth to the constant rhythm of the train. Foreheads pressed to...
All Posts By Ann Christine Tabaka
Trapped beneath a curtain of crepuscular remembrances, an eerie sensation – looking back on old photographs. A black and white specter of...
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Once … Once upon a time … Once upon a time there was a vibrant young girl, full of passion and ambition, full of pride and...
