uprising we ever fought, starts to ripple. The blue gates close over on their own steam, bronzed letters ... Fifties, when you could be two weeks waiting on a letter, eaten up with the loneliness and the worry, ...

of a ring, even a fragile crystal forged in the holy fires of love. Atop one page in block letters ...

wonder who was buried without a tongue to curl around their name. You can see the letters ...