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Sunday Biscuits

Gummy, as I came to call her at the age of two, came from a time with butter churns and trains and hats and gloves. Her biscuit recipe was no different. [...]

Song from Childhood

“My mother had the best possible death,” Hans wrote. “It was sudden, painless, and in the company of the one she loved.” [...]

Angelica’s World

Now at her deathbed, she reveled in the scratchy tunes of tangos, sweet, flowery perfumes and photographs revealing the insidious passage of time. There was magic in these small things, things that belong to the living…

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